


Milk Carton Kid

by The_Tevinter_Biscuit



Series: Milk Carton Kid [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amputation, Drug Addiction, Explicit Sexual Content, Flashbacks, Kidnapping, M/M, Memory Loss, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rape/Non-con Elements, Stockholm Syndrome, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-09-17 01:11:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9297617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Tevinter_Biscuit/pseuds/The_Tevinter_Biscuit
Summary: A frantic search is underway for a missing 18-year-old boy who disappeared over the weekend. Fenris was last seen at local bar The Hanged Man at 11 PM last Saturday.





	1. Awake

**Author's Note:**

> Buckle up kids for a grand dose of awful. I've kept things fairly light all things considered on this account but it's time to get down to the nasty parts. I've been working on this AU for awhile now alongside my wonderful beta Peach_Cherry! 
> 
> All italics are flashbacks, feel like I should mention that now.
> 
> A fair warning now that this fic is going to be filled with content that people may find disturbing, as they probably should. But alas, you have been warned.  
> It feels wrong to say enjoy, but enjoy!

Time was this abstract concept created and manipulated by man. Sleep came when his body willed it, no longer manipulated by the cycles of day and night. Master had noticed that he relied on the long periods of time to determine when the sun had set, and adjusted to disrupt that. Days blended into weeks, months, perhaps even years. He was beginning to forget a time when he had been anywhere but this room.

Gradually, he pulled himself on the wooden bed frame he had earned through slow swipes of his tongue and a greedy stomach. It was hardly an upgrade from the floor but at least he could wrap himself in the single, thin tatty blanket and protect himself from the cold.

His eyes were heavy. They were always heavy. How long had it been since he was last fed? Too long, he concluded as his stomach growled. His mouth was dry and his body wept with exhaustion. A dull throbbing in his lower back did its best to keep sleep from him.

One shaky inhale.

One exhale.

There had to be something he could reach for back in the recesses of his mind. A fragment of a life before, a shard, a loose string he could pull free. This was the least delirious he’d been since he got here. Maybe it was because Master had been gone so long. No pills had been forced down his throat recently, nor needles in his skin. His breath got caught in his throat. What if Master never came back? Left him here to rot? Perhaps there was a time he would’ve welcomed death. But now? He couldn’t survive without Master. Master was everything. Without Master, there was nothing. He needed him.

He wondered how much it’d hurt. Compared to everything else that had happened in this room, starving to death couldn’t be so bad. His bony knees rubbed together underneath the blanket. Chasing after comfort was a useless plight.

Focus, he told himself. What was his own name again? He couldn’t remember. Focus on something other than here. There had to be a time he saw something that wasn’t this house. His gaze lingered on the lock on the door, the other side of the room. He knew there was a place beyond there. Stairs. The bathroom with the large porcelain bathtub where he’d bubbled in water and choked. Scratchy nails in his hair, digging into his scalp. Master scrubbed him a new layer of skin.

Beyond the bathroom? The void, maybe. Could they be drifting in nothingness? This place wasn’t a place. It was cut off from the living, breathing Earth he could’ve sworn he once swam in. Swimming in blue. Striking blue eyes.

A loose string.

He closed his eyes and reached for the memory with open hands.

 

_Almost. Almost. He sat upon the suitcase to push it shut. It clicked into place and he smiled confidently. Today was the day. The kind man with the very blue eyes who came once a week to give everyone gifts and play games was downstairs. He could hear him chatting to the young lady at the desk, his name in the words somewhere. At long last, he was going away with him. He wouldn’t be with the other children anymore, not that he minded particularly, they never were very nice._

_He hurried down the stairs as fast as his little legs would carry him. The wheeled suitcase bumped down each step while the heavy one in his hand dragged behind him. It was difficult to carry them both, stuffed full of everything he owned. The lady at the desk had stopped him from putting in his pillow and bed sheets for reasons he couldn’t quite understand._

_The kind man turned to look at him when he approached, smiling. Excitement bubbled in his chest. He turned away from him for a brief moment, picking up a pen on the desk and scribbling on a sheet of paper. He pushed the paper towards the lady at the desk who took it and nodded._

_“All ready to go?” The kind man asked him, accent heavy. He nodded in response. “Those bags seem heavy, how about you let me carry that one?”_

_He looked down at the suitcase he was holding in his hand that the man had gestured to. He was a little reluctant to part with it. His life was contained in a single suitcase and here he was, handing it over. Regardless, he did. He put the heavy suitcase in the kind man’s hands who picked it up effortlessly._

_“Thank you,” he mumbled, cheeks hot. The kind man chuckled, deep and warm. He followed behind him as he said goodbye to the lady at the desk, the other suitcase still wheeling behind him._

_Nervousness washed over him as they stepped outside. The world was so big and he rarely got to go further than The House. Vast and scary, like the sky was going to swallow him right up. Shakily, his hand reached out for the kind man’s. He brushed his fingers over his, latching onto them desperately. The kind man noticed his effort, looking down with his heart hammering in his chest. His hand enveloped his, encasing it in a protective shield._

_The whole way to his new home, he held on._

_Keys fumbled in locks, shoes off when he walked through the front door. How long would he be staying here for? He’d heard of other kids who’d been taken from The House. Some didn’t return, but some did. It was always a good thing if you never went back, it meant that someone had decided to keep you. You were worthy._

_Now he was here, being guided up the stairs and directed towards a bedroom. He looked to the kind man for assurance and when he nodded, he put his things down and padded into the room. Soft carpet under his toes, a neatly tidied bed in the middle of the room. Stuffed animals abound, littering the bed and around it. More toys than he had ever seen in one place. His fingers felt the fluffy blankets on top of the bed sheets and he marvelled in its comfort. With green eyes brimming with curiosity, he turned back to shoot the kind man an inquisitive look._

_“It’s okay,” the kind man said. “It’s all for you,”_

_His eyes widened, tiny lips parted as he spent the next few moments drinking in everything around him._ His. _It was all_ his. _He could’ve never fathomed such a thing not long ago. Part of him wondered if it was a joke, to have things taken away from him was not an uncommon occurrence._

_“Really?” he asked. The kind man walked over to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders gently and rubbing his thumb against his arm in repetitive circles._

_“Really,” he assured him._

_It wouldn’t be long before the words ‘Dad’ were leaving his lips._

The sound of the lock has him scrambling, pulling himself out of his thoughts. He kicked the blanket off his body, pulled his bare legs to his chest and trembled. In its weak state, it amazed him how his body even found the strength to shake. His eyes are locked on the door, listening to each lock be set free and the crank of the door handle as the door comes creaking open.

Considering how long it had been, seeing Master would probably mean he was going to be fed. His stomach growled again at the thought and his tongue ran over his dry lips absent-mindedly. What would be the cost today? Master would never feed him without a price to pay for it. He’d fought it at first, tried his best to resist. Master had taken pleasure from the game. It was easier to obey at the cost of his dignity. Obedience and submission meant no sedatives and no slow starving to death.

He eyed the plastic bag Master held in his hand. Something to eat, he hoped. The door was shut behind him. Master’s eyes were tearing holes into his naked flesh.

“Down,” the order was sharp and firm. He obeyed like a dog, climbing down from the bed frame as fast as he could. He sat on the floor on his scraped knees, hands in his lap and head downcast. The sound of Master’s footsteps rang in his ears.

The plastic bag was set aside. He knew better than to go chasing after it. If he did, he’d surely be punished. His eyes were fixated on the floor until Master’s hand brushed over the side of his face. He could feel each wrinkle on his hand, each callous, his thumb tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. He looked up but still away from Master’s gaze.

In Master’s fist lay a pill. He opened it out for him to observe. Instantly, he recognised it and longing ache became ever-present in his chest. He stared at it with a hungry eagerness, to feel the high the magical pill would grant and for all the pain in his aching body to fade away.

“A treat for you,” Master said. He nodded and followed the path of the pill as it was placed on Master’s tongue. It sizzled there for a moment but he knew he wouldn’t swallow. He swallowed back a lump in his throat when a ‘come hither’ motion was directed at him. Of course, he knew what to do. If he wanted his prize, he’d have to do it. There were worse things, but he never did enjoy the tenderness of the act.

Carefully with dampened lips, he reached to press his lips against Master’s. His lips are rough and chapped, he can feel the scrape of his beard against his own smooth skin. He wasted no time, that slithering tongue slipping between the gap that separated his bottom teeth from the top. The pill was fed to him, planted in his mouth. It was rough on his throat but by now he had gotten used to swallowing pills without aid. Using the saliva to help, he swallowed it down and parted from Master, his whiskey-coated breath lingering briefly over his tingling lips.

It was worth it for the look of pride in Master’s face. He was a good boy. He knew because Master told him so.

What next? His gaze shifted over to the plastic bag. He didn’t know what was inside, but he hoped that he would receive whatever it was. He was starving. It had to be something to eat. But Master didn’t reach for the bag. The clinking of metal and shifting fabric was more than enough to tell him that Master was unbuckling his belt and pulling it free. It clattered on the floor.

“Are you hungry?” Master asked. A question. He was supposed to answer.

His throat was scratchy, he hadn’t spoken in several days now. He worried that if he tried to speak, no sound would come out at all. He could hardly recognise his own voice.

“Yes,” he answered. Master’s eyebrows narrowed. He noticed the shift in his fists and he knew he had answered incorrectly. All that praise and pride was for nothing. Master surely hated him now. His hand was wrapping around his throat. Master clamped down, cutting off his breathing. He gasped for air like a fish out of water. Tight. Constricting. Painful. The pill hadn’t set in yet. His neck was going to blossom with bruises.

The more he squirmed, struggled, panicked as black spots dotted his vision, the harder Master squeezed. He dipped in and out of consciousness. Vision blurry and drool making its way down his chin. Would he die here?

“I thought I taught you better than that Fenris,” Master said, voice hard and threatening. There he went again. _Fenris._ It felt so intimately familiar but he couldn’t place it. His name? First or last? A nickname? Did Master call him that? Did it mean something else entirely? He didn’t know. “Yes _what_?”

Master let go. Air rushed into his lungs and he drank it in as fast as he could in case it was going to be taken away again. His neck was turning beautiful shades of purple.

“Yes Master,” he rasped. “I would like to eat Master, please,”

Hopefully the begging would salvage something. Master could be so unpredictable sometimes. His expression softened on him and he hoped that was a sign that Master was going to forgive him. His breathing was beginning to even out again as Master fumbled with his zipper.

“A drink first then pet,” he said. “Be a good boy now and I’ll give you something to eat,”

His heart jumped at the promise of food. The effects of the pill were beginning to set in, numbness nibbling at the pain in his neck. He wouldn’t die today. Master was keeping him alive and he told himself that he was grateful. _Thank you Master_ he said to himself as he allowed Master to push himself between his slack lips and into his mouth.

It was in these moments when Master was distracted by pleasure that he could imagine he was somewhere else. The promise of getting rid of his hunger was enough to ignore the salty tang of precum gliding over his tongue and down his throat. His eyes fluttered closed, focusing on what would come next and not how his nose brushed against thick curls of hair when Master had him take it all. Master’s fingers threaded through his long locks of hair that he so carefully maintained every time he took him for a bath.

He wanted to gag when Master pushed his cock down his throat, but he didn’t. If Master was displeased with him now, it would all be for naught. Instead, he’d do his best to impress him and let his tongue glide over the length and he relished in Master’s satisfied groan.

The whole process ended as quickly as it began, Master pulling back a little as he finished so come splattered over his tongue.

“Show me,” Master ordered, pulling his softening shaft from his mouth. Obediently, he opened his mouth wide and showed him the obscene mess of white pooling on his tongue mingling with his saliva. He carefully maintained it there until he was told otherwise. Master smiled. “Swallow,”

He did as he was told and swallowed it down. It was sticky down his throat, getting stuck like hot glue. It was the first time he’d consumed something in a couple days at least. It didn’t taste good, but he was grateful.

“You’re such a good boy Fenris,” Master praised him and ran his hand through his hair again. He couldn’t resist nuzzling into the touch slightly. He wondered if he should start calling himself that. Fenris. It seemed odd. “That it’s a shame about the little mistake you made,”

Master had tucked himself away and he walked over to the plastic bag, picking it up and returning to him. He was finally going to find out what was inside it. He was likely going to be able to have whatever was in there. Food. Real food. Even after he had made a mistake! Perhaps Master was going soft on him after all. He watched as Master pulled out a packet of chocolate chip cookies. His mouth watered at the idea of the sweet food.

“I had brought you a gift, but with such a poor mistake like that I don’t think you deserve it,” Master explained, shaking his head and placing the packet back in the bag.

If only! If only he hadn’t made that stupid mistake! If only he didn’t displeased Master. He stared down at the floor, fingers curling into weak fists on his lap. He had been so close, tears threatening to well up in his eyes. He was so stupid! Now Master was upset with him. Was he going to let him starve now?

Apparently, Master wasn’t cruel enough to let him go hungry. The cookies weren’t the only thing in the bag. He pulled out a dog bowl and set it on the floor. He frowned. Was that for him? He watched as Master poured dog food from a box into the bowl. Then, he simply stared. Was he expecting him to eat that? It…couldn’t be that bad, right? Dogs live on it. Maybe he could too. His stomach lurched at the thought.

“I’ll be back tonight my pet, be good for me then and I’ll reconsider your gift. Now, eat up,” Master said, picking up the plastic bag and laughing. He did not stop laughing as he left the room and locked the door behind him.

He stared down at the dog food in the bowl. Hesitantly, he crawled towards it and took a handful. It would have to do. It was better than going hungry. His closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Just get it over with. As he crunched on the dog biscuits, a faraway story crossed his mind.

 

_“What are those?”_

_“Dog biscuits!”_

_He stared at the boy in front of him, wiggling a packet full of dog food in his face. The boy grinned wide at him, a few of his teeth missing. He could hardly draw his gaze away from his eyes, a hypnotic amber. Taller than him, he noted, and chubbier. His cheeks were full and dotted in freckles. Dark brown hair gathered in wisps stuck to his forehead. It looked as if it’d never been combed._

_“Are you going to eat them?” he asked the boy who then nodded. “But you aren’t a dog,”_

_The boy laughed and opened the packet. He was strange, this boy. What sane person would want to eat dog biscuits? Surely, they wouldn’t taste very good. They weren’t meant for people. That didn’t seem to be stopping him though. His small sausage-shaped fingers were reaching in the packet and pulling out a handful of dog biscuits. He watched him carefully as he put them in his mouth and chewed. They crunched loudly as he ate them up._

_When he swallowed, he watched his throat bob to take them in. Then he coughed promptly afterwards. He panicked at the sight of the boy struggling and rushed over to pat his back. The coughing turned into laughter, cheerful and plucky. He grinned at him._

_“Not great,” the boy said, snickering still. “I do not recommend dog biscuits,”_

_At the comment, he sighed and shook his head but let a small smile grace his lips. This wasn’t the first time he’d done something like this. The boy was full of surprises. It made life very exciting, he had to admit._

_“You’re so dumb Garrett,” he commented._

Garrett. He knew that name. The name of the chubby-cheeked boy.

But…why was it so familiar?

_“Do you want to try one?” Garrett asked him, thrusting the packet of dog biscuits into his hands. He looked down at the packet and peered in to see its contents. After Garrett’s display, who in their right mind would want to put one of those disasters in their mouth? He had no intention of putting something so gross tasting in his mouth and he didn’t fancy coughing it up afterwards either._

_“’Course not. Gross,” he replied, pushing the packet back to Garrett who chuckled._

_“Suit yourself,” Garrett teased._

When he awoke, he could faintly hear the sound of the television. He couldn’t remember switching it on, nor falling asleep. The pills did make him drowsy sometimes. The memory of the numbness the pill gave him was making him itch for more. With a soft sigh, he squirmed on his blanket. He was on the bed then. He’d managed to get up here. He made a single hopeless attempt at coating his mouth with moisture once he realised it was dry from the dog food.

Growing irritable, he sat up and looked towards the television. Master had brought the small box television down awhile into his stay. There was no remote, he had to manually change the channels on the television itself. There wasn’t a lot to do in this room so the television was a gift, something to fill the painful silence. It didn’t matter much what was on, so long as something was.

There were only a couple channels to choose from. The news and a few channels for children. It felt like awhile since he’d heard anything about him. He looked down and frowned as he thought about that fact.

No one was coming for him. They weren’t looking for him anymore. He was alone. He would die here.

Did anyone care at all or had they forgotten about him? What about his dad? He could faintly recall his bright blue eyes. He remembered seeing them on the television as he made a public plea for his return. He wanted him back. From his mediocre cooking to the way he’d scold him for being out too late. He wanted it all back. From what he could piece together, it didn’t seem like a bad life. He could just about make the memory of him kissing his cross attached to a golden chain around his neck as he mumbled a prayer. He did it often and he never could work out whether it was sending God a ‘thank you’ or an apology. When he did it on the television, it was a plea for help.

He missed him.

At some point during his stay, he found himself staring into the screen on the kids’ channel often. He’d grown attached to the vivid colours and noises that were such a stark contrast to the dull, boring room he sat in. By now, he was sure he could recite each piece of dialogue from SpongeBob re-runs and hum along to most of the different theme songs. Distantly, he worried that staring at the screen for so long would turn his eyes square. But it never did.

It must’ve been hours he sat on the bed frame watching the screen. The crossing over to repeats of the same shows was a good sign that he’d been staring for a long time.

Then the door clicked. The lock. It was Master. He’d come back. He wanted him, to see him. There was someone who wanted to see him. The wonderful idea of a voice other than the television screen.

Master stepped inside holding another plastic bag. Had he returned with the cookies? It was unlikely. He hadn’t done anything to deserve them yet after all. The plastic bag seemed outrageously full this time. What could it be holding? Something else for him? Master was too generous. His heart raced as he noticed Master smiling at him.

“Turn that off and come here,” he ordered. He drew his eyes away from the television screen and clambered off the bed frame. He crawled over to the television and switched it off. If he followed orders efficiently, Master would be happy. He moved over to Master, eyeing the plastic bag as he did so.

Now, he knelt before him and nuzzled into Master’s hand which reach out to stroke his hair. Master was in a good mood.

From the plastic bag, Master presented him with a bottle of water and two pills. He almost bounced in anticipation once he saw them. Something to drink that wasn’t going to be sticky down his throat and bliss contained in a single pill.

“Take both of these pills and I will allow you to wash it down with some of this,” Master told him, gesturing to the water bottle. He nodded rapidly and waited for Master to instruct him. “Open wide,”

He did as he was told, opening his mouth wide and sticking out his tongue for Master to place the pills on. The two pills were put upon it and ate away at his saliva. He retracted his tongue into his mouth but did not bring his lips together. Master unscrewed the cap on the bottle of water. Carefully, Master let him wash down the pills with the water being fed into him. He even let him drink some afterwards!

Disappointment washed over him when Master pulled the bottle away from his lips. His tongue darted out to catch any remains. He hadn’t realised he’d spilt some until Master’s thumb rubbed away the wetness from his chin.

He very much doubted he had anything to do with Master’s happiness, but he liked to think so. Master cared about him. He fed and bathed him. They did the things that lovers do. He only wished for some clothes and to feel the heat of the sun one more time. He daren’t ask for such things in fear of Master’s anger.

“I have a gift for you,” Master said, running his fingers through his hair again. It had gotten long in the time he was here, brushing over his bare chest. “You want that, don’t you? Use your hands on me and I will you give you it,”

“Yes Master,” he replied.

It was true, he wanted the gift. His mind raced through all the possibilities of what it could be. Best not dally though, he thought, looking down and noting that Master was already hard. He swallowed roughly and reach to unzip and tug him out.

Using his hands wasn’t so bad. It was hot and pulsed against his palm, but he could easily draw himself away from it.

 

_Peppered smooches and laughter. Facial hair brushed against his neck as tender lips left open-mouthed kisses on his skin. His fingers found locks of brown as a larger body descended on his on the bed. He tugged the hair up to see the face._

_Intoxicating amber eyes and a jaw brimming with hair. The teenager smiled at him, towering over him with broad shoulders and strong arms. His long legs caged him in. His own hands found themselves running over the expanse of his naked chest. It was beginning to fill with hair. Even at this age, he was so hairy._

_Garrett._

_He differed greatly from his former child self. His chubby cheeks had flattened and while the baby fat had not fully disappeared, it had decreased with the influx in height. He resisted the urge to pinch at the remaining fat on his stomach, knowing it would make him feel self-conscious._

_There were hands on his own body, Garrett’s large fingers pulling away his shirt and dragging his skinny jeans down his legs. Together, they laughed as they struggled to part the garment from his body. Garrett’s breath hitched as his hand slid underneath the waistband of his boxers._

_“Are you sure?” he asked, eyes filled with lust but also uncertainty. He’d halted his hand by wrapping his own fingers around his wrist. He was glad that he was not pushing him, but he wanted this. He wanted this more than anything he’d ever wanted in his life. Knowing that his dad was sat downstairs with the television on, only stirred his arousal more strongly. So, he smiled._

_“Yes,” he breathed, pushing past Garrett’s resist to grab at him. He relished in the way his breath hitched as he wrapped his dainty fingers around the base of his cock._

_He was so thick in his palm, he pulled him out to see. Big. Despite all the times he had felt Garrett’s erection pressing against his own during heated sessions of kissing, it was a whole other story actually seeing it. He might as well have grown another leg. His own small hand could barely fit around his whole girth. But it did not sway him, he wanted this and he was damn sure to let Garrett know._

_Every moan was a reward for his hard work. He ground his hips into the motion of his hand and thrusted into the friction like his life depended on it. He couldn’t help but stare, fascinated by the way he sweat out his desire and his hair stuck to his forehead like it used to as a child. Was it wrong to be thinking such things when he was doing this? Touching him so intimately?_

_Precome bubbled at the tip and he swiped it away with his thumb. Garrett’s hands were running up his arms, caressing them in encouragement as his eyes began to flutter shut. His mouth hung open even when he wasn’t making noises. It gave him satisfaction to know he was the one bringing Garrett here, to this place of ecstasy beyond reality. His boyfriend. His._

_His, his, his. All his._

_“I’m going to come,” Garrett rasped, opening his eyes to look at him. “Ohh…Fuck I’m gonna come,”_

_It wasn’t long after the words left his mouth that he was. A cry of pleasure. He squeezed it out of him, white splattering over his hand and dripping down his arm. He had never felt so proud of himself. Garrett didn’t waste time, he caught his breath quickly and grabbed a tissue from the nightstand to clean him up. He expected a cheeky comment about why he had tissues so close at hand, but none came._

_Instead, Garrett descended to meet his lips and smiled._

_“Your turn,” he said teasingly, wiggling his fingers down his stomach until he slipped under to grasp his cock. He gasped. “You’re such a good boy Fenris,”_

 

He snapped out of the recesses of his mind. Master had finished in his hand. So, that last part hadn’t been Garrett at all. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten about Garrett. Guilt washed over him. His boyfriend, Garrett. He was out there somewhere. Had he given up on him too? It’d been so long, it felt like forever ago they were together. Had he moved on? Was someone else drawing out those wonderful moans and making him climax in their hands?

“Clean it up,” Master’s order brought him back to reality. He stared down at the fluid on his hand and shakily brought it to his lips. He wanted Garrett’s, not this. There was no use defying him, not when he was going to give him a gift. That’s right. A gift. That’s why he was doing this.

Master watched him as he licked his hand clean, swallowing down the ejaculate with a sudden eagerness now he had remembered the gift. Master seemed satisfied, tucking himself away and reaching for the plastic bag.

There was one large item within it. Master pulled out a stuffed toy. It was in the shape of a penguin, fat and fluffy. What did Master intend to do with it?

“It’s for you. I thought you might be lonely down here so I got you a friend,” Master explained with a mischievous glint in his eyes. The penguin was placed in his lap and he took hold of it with trembling hands.

Soft. It was very soft. He ran his hands along the new textures, the fuzzy body and the smoothness of the beady eyes of the toy. There was an odd comfort to it. It felt very pleasant against his bare skin. How kind of Master to consider his comfort. He was so good to him.

“I’ll be back when I am less tired, pet. Rest. I’ll want you when I return,” Master instructed.

“Thank you Master,” he replied and he could’ve sworn Master smiled. 

He held the penguin close to his chest as Master picked up the plastic bag and left. He noted that Master had left behind the bottle of water. A drink and a gift. Today was a good day indeed. The door was locked tight once again after Master walked out. He looked down at the penguin. It needed a name. That could be decided later. He crawled back over to the television to turn it on.

Penguin in hand, he climbed back up onto the bed frame. He sat with the tatty blanket draped across his hips, eyes focused on the screen and one hand idly petting the stuffed toy. It was a perfect addition to his bed. He owned something now, he was responsible for the condition of the toy. He would cherish it. After all, he didn’t want to ruin Master’s gift now he had been so generous as to give him one.


	2. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Master is behaving suspiciously and Fenris worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter for this disaster-fic, some of the tag warnings come more into play this chapter  
> thanks again to my lovely trash-pile beta Peach_Cherry!
> 
> its a downward spiral from here folks  
> enjoy?

This was the first time he’d parted with Penguin. An uncreative name for the stuffed toy, but nothing else felt right. Penguin was there when he slept, tight against his chest and offering a strange sense of security he didn’t realise he longed for.

Master had come back, as he promised he would. Like Master had requested, he had tried to get some sleep. He had been reluctant to leave the toy but when Master entered, he took his place on the floor on his knees. His head was bowed, fists on his thighs. He wasn’t sure if holding onto Penguin would realistically make what was to come any easier, but he liked to think it might.

Upon noticing Penguin sat upon the bed, tucked in with the tatty blanket, Master smiled. In fact, the first thing he did when he walked in the room was laugh a bit. He wasn’t sure what was so funny to Master, but the good mood he was in meant unforeseen consequences. When he was angry, he knew what to expect. But happy? There were endless possibilities.

“I’m not in the mood for fooling around. Hands and knees,” Master demanded once he had finished laughing. His heart hammered. So, it was going to be that kind of night. He hesitated. It was humiliating. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been seen exposed and debauched by Master before, but to present himself like that of his own volition was still difficult. Master’s smile dropped into a deep frown. “Did I stutter boy?”

“N-No Master,” he choked out, quickly moving to get on his hands and knees.

His legs trembled as he rested on his forearms. One would think he would get used to his own nudity after spending so long without clothes. He missed the warmth of them, the closest he got to it these days was the bath towel Master used to dry him. But there was still shame, his body a fraction of the size it used to be. He could feel the blood rush to his cheeks when Master patted the insides of his thighs to encourage him to spread them.

“This is not how I taught you,” Master grumbled. His breath hitched. He knew that but it was hard to do it. In fear of Master’s anger, he lowered his chest to the floor. His cheek was pushed into the cold ground and he closed his eyes, shakily spreading his legs.

He could feel Master’s gaze. The way they roved over every inch of bare skin and dug out his dignity. That word didn’t even have meaning anymore. Dignity.

Curling his hands into fists, he thought about how he hated the tenderness when Master slid his hand over the small of his back and drew out a shudder. He palmed greedily at his ass, rubbing his thumb over his hole. It had happened so many times before, that one might think he’d grow accustomed to it. That on the 100th time he would embrace it. Perhaps he had, in a way. He wasn’t clawing at Master, fighting, biting, scratching. His forehead pressed against his arm whilst he took a deep breath as quietly as he could manage. He was letting it happen so Master would be kind, stroke his hair and tell him how good he was. He did it for the food, the water, the baths.

He did it to live.

Slick fingers were wiggling around inside him. Most of all, he hated how it no longer stirred up his guts and made him sick. No nausea swimming around in his body, no bile pooling in his throat. His body refused to give up the contents of his stomach in a desperate attempt to keep him alive. In fact, his cock was half-hard in spite of the tears welling up in his eyes.

How could anyone look at him? He was a disgrace. He blamed his arousal on his own debauchery rather than the fingers probing at his prostate. His chewed on his lip, unsure whether Master would want to hear the pitiful noises.

When the fingers were removed, he could hear Master rustling his clothes behind him. He could make it through this. Grin and bear it. Spittle dribbled from his clenched teeth. There was something dry and thick rubbing at his hole and pushing inside steadily. He couldn’t help the whimper that escaped his throat. Master’s sweat-slicked body pressing against his, groaning and fucking into him carelessly. The sound of Master’s body colliding with his own was obscene and vulgar.

He wasn’t here. This body belonged to someone else. He shook with someone else’s thighs and someone else’s lips quivered. Slowly, he raised his head up from his arm. To his left, he could see Penguin on the bed.

I’m sorry Penguin, he thought, you shouldn’t have to see this.

 

_“Oh! Hey, hey, look!”_

_He could feel tugging on his hand. When he looked down, he realised he was holding someone’s hand. Much larger than his. Their fingers were intertwined, squeezing his palm. Eyes following the path up the arm, he found it belonging to Garrett. His eyes were brimming with excitement, a grin plastered on his face. He could feel the sun blazing down on them, t-shirts and shorts abound. The forgotten freckles of Garrett’s face had come out with the heat._

_Garrett pulled him along to an enclosure. The zoo, he guessed. He rested his hand on the railing as he looked at the sight before them. It was a slightly cooler part of the park, no doubt that was why they chose to put the penguins here. He looked down at the sign attached to the railing._ _Magellanic Penguins, it read. They were surprisingly resistant to the hot weather. He supposed that had something to do with them being native to South America, as the sign so helpfully told him._

_They waddled around the enclosure, trapped but free from wild predators. Did they even know they were being held captive here? Regardless, they seemed content. They circled the pool of water in the middle and he watched them with interest._

_“They’re cute,” Garrett commented, similarly enraptured by the small animals. If there was one thing he had learnt about Garrett it was that he loved animals. Mostly dogs and anything of the canine variety in particular, but his love for animals came through with just about anything. Insects were another matter. He could feel faint laughter bubbling in his chest as he recalled him running around screaming at a bee._

_“Yeah,” he agreed, looking up at Garrett’s face._

_They stayed there for a little while, listening to the padding of the penguins’ feet on the rocks and the sound of small children beside them gasping and pointing at them. Garrett’s hand squeezed his again through the excitement. There had been whispers and comments about it as they walked through the zoo. Garrett was a little sensitive about it, but he knew better than to get irritated._

_They were happy and that was what mattered._

_“Come on, there’s an aquarium part just through there,” Garrett suddenly piped up, turning to smile at him. He nodded and let his boyfriend drag him through to see the fish. Perhaps, even a shark._

 

Master’s fingers threaded in his hair, yanking his head back as his hips stuttered. He was jerked out of his memory.

No, there had to be a way back. He wanted to see the fish. The sharks.

The grip on his hair tightened. Master’s movements came to an easy stop, pressing flush against him and pouring into him. Was it over? He fidgeted his thighs and tried to ignore the dampness between his legs. Master didn’t pull out. His hand reach along to caress his thigh and fumble for his cock; it had gone soft during his daydreaming.

No, no, no. He didn’t want to come. If he did, it meant he liked it. He squeezed his eyes shut again, pretending Penguin couldn’t see his humiliation. It was hard to ignore the pressure on his shaft.

Just get it over with.

Helpless whimpers and tiny moans tumbled out of his lips. Master relished in the way his whole body trembled under the ministrations. He squeezed his ass with the other hand, softening inside him as he coaxed him to orgasm. It came with one sharp gasp. Satisfied, Master pulled out and let his leftovers spill.

“Clean it up,” Master ordered. Slowly, he closed his legs and pulled his body up to sit up right. “A bath for you later pet I think,”

Master watched him as he cleaned the floor with his tongue, cheeks burning hot with embarrassment. Master’s hands glided through his hair appreciatively. He did well. He hoped that his hard work would be appreciated. Not once did he fight him or protest to the treatment. Master chuckled and dressed himself.

“Not bad, come here. I have something,” Master said. He looked up and saw that Master was holding two pills in his hand, presented to him. For him? Oh, he must’ve done well. He eagerly allowed him to put the pills on his tongue and he swallowed them down.

“T-Thank you…Master,” he managed to say to please him. His throat was scratchy. Master pat his cheek and promptly left.

After a deep breath, he crawled over to the bed frame and pulled himself up onto it. He reached down the side and found the water bottle that Master had left. He could get maybe one whole mouthful out of it. He opened the cap and drank the contents to help ease the pills down his throat. His eyes were drawn back to Penguin, still sat wrapped in the blanket. He wondered how much more the toy would be subjected to. Deciding to keep the empty bottle, he put it down and reached for Penguin instead.

For the brief amount of time he was with Master, he had forgotten the softness of the toy. He laid down on the bed, noticing how he was going to soil it but knew there was nothing he could do about that. Penguin looked back at him with beady little eyes. For a moment, he swore Penguin smiled at him. He figured it must be the pills setting in.

Like his life depended on it, he held tightly onto Penguin. He was beginning to feel a little drowsy just staring at the stuffed animal. He buried his face into its soft head. Even if it wasn’t real, it was nice to have some sort of company that wasn’t his own. A little bit of laughter came out. How stupid was it that he was saying that about a toy? Had he really stooped this low now?

The laughter quickly turned into sobbing. His fingers dug into Penguin whilst the tears came rolling down his cheeks.

He didn’t want to be here anymore.

 

“Bath time,” Master announced when he walked in the room. He looked up from his bed, sparing a glance at Penguin still locked in his arms. He wondered if he could bring him. Master noticed him looking. “Bring it, if you wish,”

His face brightened. Bath time wasn’t so bad. It gave him the opportunity to leave the room and now he was going to be able to bring Penguin on the adventure. Master wrapped his hand around his wrist and guided him out of the door. He focused on the idea of the hot water and not the dull ache in the soles of his feet. He knew this path so well. This happened once a week. Originally, he had been left but Master would say; “I can’t stand to be near you when you reek like that,” and so the regular bathing began.

The stairs were the biggest challenge. He wasn’t used to doing much physical activity since he’d been with Master. On top of the small portions of food, he’d lost most of his strength. He sat patiently on the chair in the bathroom whilst Master ran the hot water into the bathtub. He was grateful. It would be just as easy to bathe him in cold water. While he waited, he squeezed Penguin.

He left Penguin on the chair when Master ordered him to climb in. As much as he’d like to bring him, he feared that he would ruin the soft material if he got Penguin wet.

Master left him to his own devices mostly, occasionally shoving him around or ordering him to hurry up. Master must’ve been in a fairly good mood again because he wasn’t putting his head under the water and laughing. It was odd, Master being so kind as of late. He never could predict the man’s actions.

Quietly, he scrubbed himself with the soap until his skin was raw. He wondered if it was the same soap that Master used. It smelt nice, berries and flowers. Thinking on it, Master usually smelt much more musky. Perhaps not then. Did that mean he’d bought this soap especially for him? It seemed that way. There was a small amount of pride in that fact. Master surely cared about him.

Since his hair got so long, it had made it difficult to wash. Master drained the bath tub and turned on the shower head. He sat in the tub and closed his eyes as Master wet his hair. Master’s fingers could be rough on his scalp, scratching almost painfully, but he didn’t mind. He knew he was just being thorough as he scrubbed in the shampoo. He shielded his own eyes to make sure none of the shampoo dripped in them. Once he was done, he rinsed him off again with the shower head.

His favourite part of bath time was when Master combed through his hair. Master liked his long hair and he looked after it. He yanked out all the knots, which hurt, but it was worth it for the way Master fondly ran his fingers through it later.

“Up,” Master suddenly told him. Not climb out, he noted. Hesitantly, he stood up and rubbed his thighs together. “Turn around and bend forwards. Put your hands on the wall,”

Oh.

He spared a glance at Penguin.

I’m sorry.

Master took him roughly in the bathtub. His fingers grabbed hold of all of his hair and used it as a leash. He didn’t mess it up, not after he spent so long looking after it. The wall tiles were not good leverage due to their wetness and neither was the slippery bottom of the bathtub. Master kept him from falling as he manoeuvred inside him. He pulled out and finished in his mouth as to not dirty him.

“Swallow,” Master ordered. He did. “Good boy,”

He was dried with the warm bath towel and led back downstairs to the room, Penguin close at hand. Master gave him a strange look as he left, he couldn’t quite tell if he looked sad or not. If so, why?

Master left him with a plastic bag. He looked inside and found another bottle of water and a few stale slices of bread and biscuits. Real biscuits, not dog food. He wouldn’t be going hungry or thirsty. Then he spotted two more pills. With a gulp of the water, he took them and enjoyed the numbness they gave. It made it easy for him to fall asleep and dream.

 

_“Garrett! Are you okay?” he exclaimed._

_“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. I’m fine,” Garrett said, pushing himself up from a sprawl on the floor. The fall from his outside window into his bedroom and onto the floor had left an earthquake behind and he was sure that Dad wouldn’t sleep through it. Why couldn’t he come to the door like a normal person? He was clearly too big for the window_ , _proven by the way his face collided with the window pane._

_When he climbed onto his bed, he still had his hand over his nose. That’s where he must’ve hit. He hoped that he hadn’t broken it or something, it looked like it hurt. He scooted over him and gestured for him to take his hand away from his face. Reluctantly, he did only to show a deep jagged cut across the bridge of his nose and his hand soaked in blood._

_“Is it bad?” Garrett asked, staring at his shocked expression._

_“Bad? There is blood everywhere!” he answered. Garrett only laughed, sliding his non-bloodied hand along his bare thigh._

_“It’s fine, it’ll be fine. Besides, you invited me for a reason and I intend to make good on it. I could hardly resist when you’re sat in nothing but my shirt,” he was surprisingly calm about the whole situation._

_He pressed his lips together, unsure whether he should be allowing this to happen. He had been laid on his back by Garrett, looking up at him and willingly parting his legs for him. It made the oversized shirt he was wearing hitch up further. He did like wearing Garrett’s clothes, they smelt like him and they were always large and comfy._

_Then, it happened. A drop of blood fell from the cut on his nose and onto his face. It splashed there and dripped down his cheek. He pushed Garrett’s bigger form away from his body._

_“That’s it. You need help,” he announced. Garrett huffed when he was pushed aside and watched him he hopped off the bed to pull on some underwear and jeans. Barefoot, he dragged Garrett out of the room and into the bathroom by his hand._

_He held a rag over his injury in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. He put pressure on it and apologised to Garrett who was wincing at the sudden pain. Despite his best efforts, the bleeding just wouldn’t seem to stop. That was a bad sign, he noted. Groaning, he knew this meant he was going to have to leave the house and put on some shoes. It was the early hours of the morning and no one was going to appreciate this predicament._

_One hand over his bloody nose, Garrett let him pull him around again. They awoke his dad and promptly after, they ended up in the Minor Injuries Unit where a flustered, young nurse guided Garrett away._

_“Why was he climbing through your window anyway?” Dad asked accusingly, turning to look at him. His cheeks flushed, looking down at the floor and away from Garrett who was gazing at his stitches using the front camera on his phone. He noticed Dad lingering on the oversized shirt he was wearing, sleeves rolled up at his wrists. How could he tell him that he’d sent his boyfriend an inappropriate text and one thing had led to another?_

_“He…came to see me?” he offered and Dad tutted but didn’t press the issue._

 

He woke up alone. Everything felt eerily quiet. Slowly, he sat up and reached for Penguin who had been resting by his side while he slept. There was something so uncomfortable about the atmosphere and he couldn’t tell what it was so he frowned. How long had he slept for? Couldn’t be long if Master hadn’t arrived yet.

Distantly, he wondered if Master had left him more pills with the other supplies. He didn’t feel particularly overheated, but there was sweat gathering on his palms. He quickly became sick of fidgeting and went to check. He pulled the bag towards him by reaching, avoiding using his feet. As much as he longed for the exercise, he knew he’d regret using them too much.

Opening the plastic bag, he checked its contents. Sadly, no pills. They had to be a reward then. That made sense. Master usually gave him them after he’d used him for his sexual desires. He just had to wait until Master returned. Then he could replace the aching in his legs and feet as well as the distant throb of a headache with blissful numbness. That sounded good. Idly, he licked his lips.

Just a biscuit then, he thought when his stomach growled. He took a single bite. How much would be a good idea to eat? It wasn’t like Master to leave him so much, unless that meant he wasn’t going to be feeding him for a while? His heart pounded. After a few bites and a miniscule swig of water, he put the bag back down on the floor.

What now?

He could put the television on. Yes, that sounded good. Anything to distract him from this eerie silence. Carefully, he pulled himself over to the television and switched it on. He sat back at the end of the bed frame and pulled Penguin into his arms. At least he had Penguin.

“Do you think Master is coming back?” he said aloud. Penguin didn’t respond, but he squeezed the toy harder anyway. The fog in his mind was drowning out the sound of the television. “What if he doesn’t come back?”

As always, Penguin was silent. He hummed quietly. Despite his lack of response, he kept talking.

“I don’t want to be by myself…’m sorry. We have each other but…” his voice was trailing off into thoughts. He looked down at Penguin and Penguin stared back. “It isn’t enough, is it?”

For a split second, he thought Penguin might answer his woes, but nothing came. After a few moments of digging his fingers into the soft body of the toy a small laugh tumbled out of his lips. He was being stupid. So very stupid. Penguin would never answer. He was filled with stuffing, he didn’t even have ears. He swallowed down a lump in his throat when the thought that no one was listening crossed his mind.

Did it even matter? It was better than nothing. He had spent many days like this in the past, filled with empty silences in a room cut off from the world. What did he do before he had the television to fill those quiet moments? He couldn’t remember. He tried to focus on the hum of the television instead.

Hours passed and there was no sign of Master. A swirling in his gut tried to convince him that he was gone for good. This was it. He’d do anything to see Master, do whatever he wanted. The craving for some kind of company was overwhelming. Master had been so good to him lately and he wanted it back. Anything was better than sat here rotting in this room.

Anything.

Even the distant sound of footsteps upstairs would be better than this. Please, he thought.

“I’m scared,” he told Penguin. He had never been so vocal with his thoughts before this toy had landed in his hands. He had never been so grateful for some kind of outlet. Deep breaths, he told himself, long deep breaths. Master would come back. There had to be a reason he couldn’t hear a thing. Perhaps it was just his hearing? No, he could hear the television just fine.

Time continued to pass.

He’d exhausted the contents of the bag. It felt like Master was never coming back. He was on edge, unable to stop fidgeting on the bed frame and his headache had only gotten worse. He wanted a pill. He wanted to take it all away. Penguin looked at him with disapproval.

Then, as if by a miracle, the lock on the door made a noise. His eyes snapped over to the door as he anticipated Master on the other side. He was back. He was finally back. He’d kiss his feet and worship him, he needed the contact and for all the pain to be taken away. He’d do anything, everything—

It wasn’t Master.

He blinked wildly as a woman stepped through the door. He’d never seen her before. Frightened, he held Penguin against his body and backed up to the corner of the bed frame with his knees lifted and legs shut in order to preserve some of his dignity. Who was she and why was she here? What happened to Master?

Hope thrummed in his chest. Would she take him away from this place? Had he been saved? He expected a team rather than just the one woman, but maybe they didn’t want to frighten him. Understandable, he supposed. He hoped he would get to see his dad again. Garrett too. If he was lucky, they hadn’t forgotten about him and missed him just as much as he did them.

She opened the door wider and walked further inside. Her hair was a dark black, cascading over her shoulders. It was a firm contrast to her pale white skin like she hadn’t seen the sunlight in many years. Most striking of all was her eyes. A brilliant blue that reminded him faintly of his dad. They narrowed when she saw him, a viciousness behind them that was warning him that she wasn’t here to save him and take him to his family. Panic flooded through him.

It was possible that she had done something to Master. Killed him and taken over this place. She didn’t look blood-stained, but she could’ve changed. The light purple dress she was wearing did look rather expensive after all.

“Fenris,” she said. So, she knew who he was. It was oddly calming and it meant that Master had told her what he called him. What Fenris meant and whether or not it was his real name was still up in the air.

Maybe he was overthinking it all and she was simply a friend of Master’s. Why wouldn’t Master tell him if someone else was going to be monitoring him? There were many questions running through his mind and not a single one was being answered. Most of all however, he didn’t like being naked before her. He had been under the impression that Master wanted him for his eyes only. He could always be wrong, he supposed.

“Your _master_ is gone for the week,” she told him. Gone? Where did he go? He was coming back wasn’t he, if it was only for the week? Why wouldn’t he tell him? “Business,” That answered one question at least. “He gave me the dirty job of looking after his little pet, which would be you,”

She sneered condescendingly at him. He recoiled into a shell.

“You will answer everything I say with ‘Yes mistress’ and do exactly as I tell you, is that clear?” she demanded, sauntering over to him. He bit his bottom lip and leaned away from her. He already didn’t like her. Her tone was inherently threatening. He wanted Master back. Her only saving grace was it was unlikely that she would sexually abuse him, right? Well, maybe that was hopeful thinking. She couldn’t…penetrate him, at least. He remained quiet so she reached out and grabbed his jaw. “I said _is that clear?_ ”

He didn’t want to answer her. His eyebrows furrowed as he stared back at her, her nails digging into his jaw. He wasn’t about to take orders from this…this…crazy woman.

“Fuck you,” he exclaimed and spat at her. She jerked back, letting go of him and allowing him to rub at the crescent indents she’d left behind. With disgust, she wiped the spit from her cheek with the back of her hand.

“Why you—” she began but she held back and frowned at him. She clicked her tongue and her next words were even more venomous than the last. “Fine. See if I care if you _rot_ in here. It makes no difference to me if you die. You better consider your place you little rat,”

Without hesitation, he kept on glaring at her. In frustration, she slapped him clean across the face and stormed out of the room. She made sure to lock the door behind her. He lifted his head, fingers running over where he had been slapped. Heat radiated from the injury. He knew that wasn’t going to be the last he’d see of her, for as much as he hoped it would be.

He looked down at Penguin and once again apologised for everything the toy’s beady little eyes had seen.


	3. Abuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris decides he hates his new Mistress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the downward spiral continues  
> once again, my pal Peach_Cherry deserves huge thanks for her beta-ing
> 
> enjoy! ...sorta?

_When he awoke, Garrett was nowhere to be seen. There were indents left behind on his mattress from where he had been, but alas, the body was gone. He groaned and rolled onto his back, a tired hand pushing away his rustled hair that had fallen into his face. It stuck there, the morning mess aiding in its stubbornness. Distantly, he figured he needed a good shower. The hot water would wash away the lingering sweat and pheromones from last night’s sex._

_First, Garrett needed to be found._

_With reluctance, he pulled himself out of bed. He stretched and reached for a shirt and a pair of boxers, it was enough to shield his dignity. It was his own home, the only people who were likely going to see him like this were Garrett and his dad._

_Yawning, he made his way downstairs. Perhaps Garrett had gone to help himself to breakfast? The other teenager practically lived in his house these days. It was a Saturday, which usually meant a lazy day for the both of them. Most Saturdays were spent together at either of their houses. Often his because Dad left them to their own devices, he knew better after the time he’d caught them naked on the sofa. At Garrett’s place, there was the fear of being caught by his younger siblings and traumatising them for life. Which, in retrospect couldn’t be much worse than being caught by his dad and at an age of 13 they had likely already been exposed to such goings on. Better safe than sorry, Garrett would say._

_He’d expected a much harsher punishment from Dad when he’d caught them. However, he only sighed and shook his head before he told them not to do it again. Dad mentioned that when he was younger had been just as or even more foolish. It was hard to imagine his dad as a rambunctious teenager. He supposed that he just assumed one day he’d grow out of it and that’s why he took him to Church every Sunday._

_From the kitchen, he heard chatter. He paused. There was no reason he couldn’t walk right in there but something stopped him. He leaned against the wall beside the open door and listened in. He could hear Garrett and Dad talking._

_“I just want to know what your intentions are,” Dad said. He peered in the doorway. Dad was stood with his arms folded and brows furrowed. Garrett was dressed, to his surprise, and leaning against one of the counters. In his hands lay a cup. “You have been…_ dating _my son for some time now,”_

_“Almost two years,” Garrett clarified and took a sip from his cup._

_Was Dad interrogating him? Why now? He shuffled to get a little closer. He and Garrett had known each other since they were children. They’d gone to the same schools. Dad had never had a problem with him before. In fact, he always thought that Dad and Garrett’s mother, Leandra, had got along quite well._

_“Look, if it seems like I’m chastising you I assure you that was not my intention,” Dad explained and sighed. He unfolded his arms and let them swing by his sides. “I like you Garrett, you’re a good kid and you two seem happy together. I just wanted to make sure that you were…committed to this relationship. Friend of the family or not, I will_ never _forgive you if you break his heart,”_

_Garrett laughed nervously. Probably not the best move._

_“I’m committed, don’t worry. I love him, I do. I have no intention of leaving him,” Garrett told him. He felt his heart flutter. Garrett didn’t even know he was here, listening to this conversation, and he was telling his dad such things. A blush heated his cheeks. “I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to him either,”_

_“Do you intend to marry him one day, then?” Dad asked._

_Catching him mid-drink, Garrett choked and spluttered a little. Dad cocked an eyebrow._

_His breath got caught in his throat. How would Garrett respond? Marriage? They had never talked about anything like that. Dad couldn’t possibly have expected him to be thinking about it! They were teenagers!_

_Clearing his throat, Garrett answered; “If I am to be brutally honest? I haven’t thought about it. I-I mean, that’s not to say I wouldn’t! Sure, I mean, probably someday, right? That’s one of the…next big steps? I guess,”_

_Dad hummed but did not seem displeased with his response._

_“Fair enough, but it is something you should perhaps think about. By no means rush into things. I don’t want to seem pushy,” he said. Garrett nodded._

_“It’s okay, I understand,” he replied, smiling and looking down into his drink. “You’re his dad and you want what’s best for him. I get it, I think. To be honest I’m surprised my mum hasn’t started nagging me about it yet,”_

_He took a quiet deep breath and Garrett took a calmer sip of his drink. Dad visibly relaxed, shoulders dropping from their tense state. He shuffled over to lean against the counter beside Garrett. He looked up at the ceiling and then back down at the teen beside him. There was a moment of silence before he spoke again._

_“You know, I’d just lost the remains of my family when I adopted him. I’d inherited the family fortune and had more than I knew what to do with. I was in no emotional state to get into a romantic relationship. But, with the Church I helped orphaned kids. I’d…practically just become one myself so I felt like I had an understanding with them. I used my inheritance to buy them things and spent a lot of my time there giving them the time and care they deserved,” he began._

_“Oh I’m…sorry to hear about your family,” Garrett said, blinking wildly. “I can’t imagine what that must be like,”_

_From beside the doorway, he was also taken aback. Dad had told him before that there was no family for him to visit, that it was just the two of them. However, he had never heard the story like this. With…these details. He stilled and listened closely, curious to hear what came next._

_“It’s alright. It was a long time ago. The experience encouraged me to sign myself up to become a foster parent. I figured, someone took my family away from me and I had the opportunity to build myself a new one. And when I saw him I…it’s cliché to say I_ just knew _but it’s true. He was so young I bet he hardly remembers it, never mind the time I spent with him before I took him home,” Dad continued. Garrett nodded along. “My point is he’s my only family and he is_ everything _to me. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to him. I helped him, sure, he cried the day I told him I was officially signing the adoption papers,” Dad laughed. “But he helped me a lot too,”_

_“I’m sure he’s more than capable of taking care of himself, what with all those self-defence classes you sent him to?” Garrett chuckled and Dad laughed a little again too. “But I’ll look out for him, I promise,”_

_“Please do,” Dad said and rubbed Garrett’s shoulder._

The sound of the lock startled him. Instinctively, he reached for Penguin. Was it going to be that woman again? It must be, he recognised the heavy pad of Master’s footsteps and these ones were much quieter. There was only the muffled click of heels. His headache had gotten worse and his stomach was beginning to rumble. He groaned at the throbbing in his head and reached to press his hand against his forehead.

Then, the door swung open. The woman from yesterday strolled inside, just as he’d expected. He looked up at her and noticed the plastic bag in her hand. It was the same ones Master used to bring him food and water. They also contained pills sometimes. His heart jumped in his chest. The pills! He yearned for them and their ability to make him forget about his headache and the dull pain of his bruised jaw.

“Ready to correct your mistakes, rat?” she said, walking over to him and waving the bag in front of his face. His stomach growled in response. He didn’t want to submit to this awful woman, she wasn’t Master and she never would be. But his stomach was protesting, he needed to eat.

“Yes,” he answered quietly.

“Yes what?” she retorted with a sneer. He’d made this mistake with Master before and it never ended well for him. If only Penguin could save him from this mess. Perhaps if he squeezed the toy hard enough all of his worries would go away.

He couldn’t do it. It felt like he was betraying Master. Once he said it, he’d given in and submitted to his fate. Until Master returned, he’d have to kiss this woman’s feet. He wanted his dad. Please, take him away. There were hands in his hair, tugging on it painfully and dragging him forwards. He cowered.

“Yes mistress,” he eventually managed to say. Mistress let go of his hair. He’d given in. This was his life now. He was just going to have to get used to it. She smiled at him, predatory and malicious. Her prey was under her claws and she knew it.

Taking a step back, she reached in the plastic bag and took out a packet of biscuits. He eyed them nervously, they weren’t opened and clearly were not stale. Mistress had proven so far that she was not a kind woman, so the idea of giving him something nice to eat was far beyond him when even Master did not. He swallowed roughly, watching her take the first chocolate-covered delight and take a bite in front of him. She didn’t say anything nor tilt the packet towards him, just ate the entirety of the biscuit before him.

His stomach growled again. Watching her devour the goods was only making the pangs of hunger worse. His eyebrows furrowed. She was taunting him, obviously, showing that she had the power to choose whether he lived or starved. He didn’t know what she expected him to do.

She took another biscuit from the packet and smirked at the way his eyes followed. His eyes widened when she held it out towards him. Was it a trap? He pushed the thought away in favour of thinking about how good it would feel to sink his teeth into the crunchy biscuit and taste the chocolate on his tongue. Shakily, he moved his hand from caressing Penguin and reached to take the biscuit out of her hands.

Before he could take it, she let it slip from her hands. As if in slow motion, he watched the biscuit fall to the cold floor. Within seconds, the heel of her shoe was digging into it and crushing it into millions of tiny pieces. His eyes bulged as it crumbled. Her laughter echoed.

“Hungry?” she teased between snickers. He bit his lip. Her heel was removed from the destroyed biscuit on the ground. “Go on, eat,”

It was a command. There was no chance she was going to give him anything more. He stared down at the crushed biscuit. Perhaps some of its taste could be savoured from the crumbs. Slowly, he looked up to see Mistress’s smirk turn into a frown at his hesitancy.

“What are you, deaf? You would think you could hear plenty with those big ears of yours,” she mocked and flicked one of his ears. He flinched back from the touch. Mistress would have none of it. Instead, she grabbed his hair again and jerked him forwards until he fell off the bed frame and onto the floor. The heel that had destroyed the biscuit was now digging into the back of his neck and forcing his head down where the crumbs were. It was likely she was going to break the skin. “I told you to eat,”

Reluctantly, he licked the crumbs from the floor. As degrading as it was, he had to admit the taste wasn’t that bad. Mistress put the packet of biscuits back in the bag and fed him some stale ones instead much to his disappointment, followed by a few sips of water.

After that, she prepared to leave.

“M-Mistress,” he said. Mistress turned back to look at him. “Um…pills. Master usually gives me…pills,”

He didn’t like the way her eyes narrowed. She tutted and looked at the bag in her hands. He wondered if they were in there, beyond his reach, and she had chosen not to give them to him. Master had been so meticulous about feeding him them, it seemed strange that she would deny him them if she was looking over him in Master’s place like she said she was. Just thinking about the pills made his headache worsen. He wanted, no, he _needed_ them.

“As if, not after how you acted out last time,” she commented, her scowl softening into a chuckle when he looked down.

Before he could protest, she walked out the door.

 

He’d been attempting to sleep when Mistress slammed the door open. It was loud enough to startle him and scramble to sit upright. He had been finding it hard to sleep since she’d been watching over him in Master’s place. Perhaps it had something to do with his throbbing headache. Nausea was starting to swim in his stomach too, which he dearly wished would fade away because he didn’t want to bring back up any of the scraps Mistress gave him. To live, he needed to eat.

If only he could have some more of those pills. They would make everything better. Mistress wouldn’t give them to him. He reached for Penguin and squeezed him against his chest, as usual, so he would feel safe.

Her eyes laid on Penguin when she walked towards him, door shutting with a bang behind her. It only encouraged him to hold Penguin tighter.

“What is it with you and that thing?” she demanded, snatching Penguin out of his hold. He gasped and reached out for the toy. Everything was so cold without the warmth of Penguin’s fluffy body. He could already feel tears welling up in his eyes. She couldn’t take him away from him! Anything but that! He’d grown so dependent on Penguin, he couldn’t even think about how he’d managed before he had that comfort.

“Please give it back Mistress,” he said pitifully. “Master gave it to me as a present,”

Denying him his pills and regularly interrupting his sleep was one thing, but to take Penguin away from him? She truly had no soul, a monster. At the word ‘Master’ her gaze softened slightly. It was unlikely she’d damage something that was a product of Master’s will.

“He treats you like a child,” she scoffed and threw Penguin back at him. He caught him desperately, protecting Penguin with his arms like a cage. He was relieved to have him back in his hold. Now he was here, he could relax a little. Mistress pressed her lips together and shook her head.

She dropped the usual plastic bag on the floor and left him to figure it out. When he peered inside, he noticed that there was a single pill. Like a starved animal, he reached for it and devoured it. He didn’t know if Mistress had put it there on purpose or if it had been an accident. Either way, he was happy to take it. It wasn’t enough, he was used to a couple doses a day, always in twos. It felt wrong to go back to one.

Grateful, he laid back and closed his eyes. Maybe now his headache would fade and he could get some uninterrupted sleep.

 

_“Close your eyes,”_

_He trusted Garrett but anyone telling you to close your eyes was always a little nerve-racking. Taking a deep breath, he did as he was told. He focused on the sound of Garrett’s footsteps and his steady breathing as they approached him. Then there was warmth around his neck. Something soft. His fingers moved up to feel the thick material that had been wrapped around him. Judging by the texture and the placement of the garment, he guessed it must be a scarf._

_“You can open them now,” Garrett instructed and moved his hands away from him. His eyes fluttered open and he could see Garrett’s smiling face. Honey eyes bright and cheeks flustered._

_Moving downwards from his face, he glanced down to confirm that it was a scarf wrapped around him. Sure enough, it was. It was a garish shade of red. Certainly not something he’d buy for himself. He much preferred neutral colours and if he were to spruce up his wardrobe it would be with a darker shade or something subtler. The colour was obnoxious, perhaps like Garrett himself in a way. It was warm, at least._

_Garrett was beaming at him, clearly looking for some kind of approval. When he brought up the scarf up to his nose and inhaled, he could faintly that musky scent combined with too much overpowering cologne. How long had it been in Garrett’s home? Despite his feelings towards the colour, Garrett had given it to him as a gift and that was worth more to him than anything else._

_“Do you like it?” Garrett asked, smiling. His fingers rubbed at the back of his neck. “It’s our two-year anniversary so…”_

_Ah, of course._

_“I like it. It is warm…” he tried his best to seem confident in his words. It was worth it for the way Garrett’s smile reached his eyes and crinkled the skin. He stepped forwards, sliding his hands over the expanse of his broad chest. “Thank you,”_

_His fingers dug into his creased shirt and he pulled him down to meet his lips. He put in his own effort to match his embrace, leaning up on the tips of his toes. Garrett’s arms found his waist and he laughed softly, deep and warm, into his mouth. Effortlessly, he tilted further forward so he no longer had to balance on his toes. Now he kissed him more passionately, teeth lightly grazing and pulling at his bottom lip._

_“I love you,” Garrett told him breathlessly as he pulled himself away from him. His large hand caressed the side of his face, thumb roving over the ridges of his slack lips. He felt himself smiling back and leaning into his touch._

_“I love you too,” he said._

_Garrett took his hand in his and guided him upstairs._

For a while after the dream, he found himself tracing patterns over his neck with his finger. It all felt so real. The lingering warmth of the scarf still left tingles around his throat. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been that warm. The heat of Master’s hands around his throat, neglecting him of breath, didn’t count.

Mistress had told him that Master was going to be gone for a week. He frowned as he realised he had no real way of telling when a week was up. At least when Master returned, it gave him some kind of judgement of time. He supposed that bath time was usually about once a week too. At least, that’s what Master told him. It was hard to place in comparison to how long he’d been with Master, a number he still didn’t know.

He drew his hands away from his neck and reached out for Penguin, nestling the toy on his lap.

“Master will come back for us,” he said, looking into Penguin’s eyes. Talking to Penguin had become a common occurrence. The first-time Mistress had overheard him, he’d heard her laughter on the other side of the door. Master didn’t comment much but he’d smile whenever he saw him on his bed or wrapped up in his arms. “He won’t leave us with that cruel woman,”

Penguin didn’t reply. He hummed.

The door crashed open with a bang, making him jump. In stormed Mistress, fury written across her face within her clenched teeth and furrowed eyebrows. Consumed by her anger, she didn’t even hesitate or bother to shut the door behind her. It didn’t take long before she was stomping towards him, heels clicking against the floor.

“Did you think I wouldn’t hear you? You’re a disgrace, you don’t even know cruelty from me yet,” she barked at him close to his face, fingers gripping his hair. She tugged him away from the bed and he was forced to leave Penguin behind. His long hair made it easy for grabbing. He stared up at her. How could he have known she was listening? No, this was his fault. He should’ve known better than to say bad things about Mistress, whether she was listening or not.

She forced him on his knees. Before he could answer, her knee collided with his jaw. His words were forced shut along with the clack of his teeth. He scrambled as he hit the floor, pushing him up with his forearms.

“I-I’m sorry Mistress,” he choked out. It did not appease her. She got down on his level, giving him another swift smack across the face until a little bit of blood dripped from his nose.

In act of self-preservation, he fought back. He’d lost some of his former strength, it was difficult to push her off him when she descended to deliver more blows but eventually he shoved her back. She did not take too kindly to the act, hissing as she put him on his back. He squirmed desperately from underneath her when her hands wrapped around his throat. She squeezed harder and harder so he kicked at her, hands moving in a flurry to try and tug hers off him.

Instead, she kicked his legs apart to stop him. Shame crawled through his skin, burning heat in his cheeks as he was spread obscenely and choked on any breaths of air he could get. She jerked him back and forth with her hands still wrapped around his neck, banging the back of his head against the hard floor. Black spots began dotting around his vision and he wondered if he was going to lose consciousness soon. The world spun around him.

“You’re a pathetic,” Smack. “Worthless,” Smack. “Disgusting piece of work,” Smack.

Just before he faded into total darkness, Mistress let go. She panted, leaning back on her lower legs as she drank in the sight of her handiwork. He spluttered, frantically inhaling and coughing. Water was bubbling in his eyes.

“I don’t understand what he sees in you,” she tutted, clicking her tongue. Afterwards, she stood up and left him to curl up on his side. He shook tremendously and Mistress only worsened it as she gave a couple sharp kicks to the chest. Her heels only worsened the blows. He recoiled into a ball, bringing his knees to his chest and shielding his head with his arms. “I don’t know why I bothered. You can starve, I don’t care. Your Master will take care of your corpse. Probably leave you in a ditch somewhere,”

Venom poured from her words and he was glad he could muffle it a little with his arms. He mumbled apologies over and over until she grew sick of it. By listening to the slowly fading footsteps, he could tell when she had left. The door shut tight and the click of the lock echoed.

At first, he was hesitant to move from where he lay. Not even Master had been so spiteful to his words. Hopefully he would never have to see her again, it didn’t seem like he would if she wasn’t going to be feeding him. That meant no pills either. Perhaps he would die before Master came back. How had things gone so wrong? Slowly and carefully, he pushed himself up off the floor. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and found blood smeared across the skin. Looking down, purple bruises were beginning to form on his chest. He couldn’t see the state of his neck himself, but he almost laughed at the irony of a scarf made out of bruises.

It would be impossible to push himself up onto the bed. He didn’t have the energy to do that, the floor would have to do. There was nothing to dull the pain.

Well, maybe one thing.

He reached behind him, wincing at how the stretch made the bruises on his chest throb. Fumbling around, he soon found Penguin and brought him down. The soft material had never felt better on his skin. Briefly, he worried about getting blood on Penguin and never being able to get it out if he leaned his head against him. He found himself laying back down on the floor. It wasn’t as comfy as the bed but he had done it once, before Master brought him such luxuries.

With Penguin tucked under his arm, he tried to sleep. He was surprised when he started to drift off without the pills to dull his beaten body. Perhaps in a way, Penguin did work little miracles.

 

He spent a lot of his time sleeping but not dreaming. The absence of food and water in his stomach was making him delirious and he couldn’t distinguish reality from hallucinations. For as much as he chased his memories round and around in circles, he came to no conclusion. After a while of sleeping on the floor, he managed to drag himself back onto the bed. Penguin remained at his side.

There was the possibility of switching on the television to ease his mind and make him forget about his pain but he figured that it would probably just make him feel worse. He didn’t want things on the television screen to further induce his hallucinations.

Staring up at the ceiling, he wondered if this was what it was like to die. He could feel himself drifting in and out of consciousness. He was just so…tired. The initial ache in his stomach had almost faded entirely. In fact, most of the pain had subsided into numbness with his fatigue.

He didn’t even jump or flinch when the lock on the door clicked. The door creaked open. He wanted to see. He needed to. Who was it? Mistress?

Master?

Heavy footsteps. It had to be Master! The rustling of a plastic bag. He’s here, he’s back, he’s come for him. Master would make him better, feed him, swallow hundreds of his pills. Everything would be made good again. If he could just…turn to look at him. There was no strength in his body.

It couldn’t end like this! Not when Master was finally back. The door shut again. More footsteps. Master walked towards him and cupped his face in his hand. He stared up at him, into the wrinkles on his face and his calculating eyes. They softened, perhaps more with pity than affection. He stroked his cheek, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear like he usually did so fondly. Master was here. He had come back for him.

His head titled to the side to see Master had put the plastic bag on the floor. It had food in it. He could see a small tub of some sort and wondered what it was. Master was still stroking his cheek.

“Oh, my poor thing. What has she done to you?” he cooed. He closed his eyes and leaned into Master’s touch. He was so happy. If he had the strength, he’d reach out and embrace him. Perhaps Master would even let him. He would put every rule aside to hold him. “You must be hungry pet,”

At the promise of food, his eyes widened. After so long, he wasn’t sure if he could stomach it. He feared he might bring it back up if he tried to eat anything. There was no way he could say no. If he said no, he’d surely die. Throwing up a bit would be better than death. Master at least seemed to be forgiving right now, maybe he wouldn’t even punish him.

Master helped him sit up, eyes lingering on Penguin and showing that familiar curl in his lips when he saw that he had been cradling the toy. Sitting beside him on the bed, he coaxed him towards him. He brought him up into his lap and he leaned against Master’s chest. Penguin was still hooked under his arm. Master reached for the plastic bag by their feet. He fought the urge to sleep now he was warm against another body.

He had to find out what was inside the bag. Could it be something Master had brought back from his business trip? Something new and different? He’d be grateful for anything right now, just the fact that Master had thought of him was enough to quench his thirst for attention. Master confirmed his suspicions when he spoke.

“I brought you back something sweet to eat. A treat for my pet. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he told him with a tenderness to his voice as he rustled his hand inside the plastic bag.

No matter how hard he fought it, he leaned his face against Master’s chest and cried.


	4. Animal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things take a turn for the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first things first, im so sorry for this chapter.......  
> who am i kidding i legit had so much fun writing this
> 
> thank u to my wonderful beta Peach_Cherry for embarking on this awful adventure with me  
> enjoy this shitstorm
> 
> (comments make my day!)

“Open,”

Eagerly, he opened his mouth. Like a mother feeding her child, Master placed the spoon in his mouth. He closed his lips around it and allowed Master to feed him the first scoop of vanilla ice-cream. Master retracted the spoon and watched him. He spread the treat all over his tongue to savour the taste before he swallowed. It was sweet, incredibly sweet, more so than he remembered ice-cream ever being. It was almost repulsive but he swallowed it down knowing it was Master’s gift.

He made an attempt to read the expression on Master’s face but it was blank. Master continued to feed him until he decided it would be enough. He was grateful, unsure of how much more he would’ve been able to eat. His eyes closed as Master tenderly wiped some of the excess ice-cream from his lip with his thumb. Hopefully this meant he was happy with him.

Master put the lid back on the ice-cream and tucked it away in the plastic bag.

“Best take this back upstairs so it doesn’t melt, hm?” Master said. He knew it meant that Master was leaving and he didn’t want him to. A beg for him to stay almost escaped his lips, but he pushed them shut and nodded. It was worth it for the way Master smiled at him, petting his long hair and standing up. He gave him a couple pills that had been resting in his hands and watched him swallow them down. “Don’t look so sad Fenris, I’ll be back for you later,”

Once again, he nodded and squeezed Penguin in his arms. Master picked up the bag and promptly left.

 

_Ringing in his ears was the sound of waves crashing against each other. He looked down and curled his toes in the sand. Despite clad in only a pair of swim trunks, he was far from cold with the summer sun blazing down upon him. Not that the rays could reach him through the extra layer of skin he’d made out of sun-cream. He had to be careful after all, his skin condition didn’t exactly enjoy the heat too much. Hearing a feminine sigh, he turned to the presence next to him._

_A girl his age, arms high in the air as she stretched. She sat beside him on a beach towel with her long legs sprawled out. Her white bikini stood out against her brown skin, the straps to the upper piece shielded by her cascading locks of dark hair. There was an air of confidence she radiated about how she looked, despite confessing to some small insecurities about how her body curved. Upon noticing he was looking, she smiled and a glint of cheekiness glimmered in her eyes._

_Isabela._

_“I think it’s about time we got some ice-cream, don’t you think?” she suggested, pushing herself up onto her feet. She offered her hand and after a small hesitation, he took it and stood up next to her. There was barely an inch between them in height. Isabela was a little taller than the average woman and he was definitely on the shorter side._

_“Sounds good,” he replied. She gestured towards the ice-cream stand just beyond the concrete slabs leading off the sand._

_It was their first summer vacation since they started college. Now Garrett had his driving license and a new car bought by his parents, he was more than eager to drive everyone somewhere. Dad had been reluctant to let him stay away from home for a week in some hotel at the beach, but with a little nudging he was convinced on the condition he called him every day._ _His 18th birthday would be approaching soon enough, by winter. He’d have more freedom then._ _So, that’s how they ended up there. Bathing in the sun during the day and huddled together watching trashy movies with delivery pizza by night like cliché teenagers out of a high school movie._

_“What flavour do you want?” Isabela asked, looking at the list of ice-cream flavours on the board. He scanned it briefly despite knowing what he was going to pick regardless. As usual, nothing particularly piqued his interest. Garrett and Isabela often chided him for being boring because of his choice._

_“Vanilla,” he answered and Isabela snorted with laughter._

_Once she ordered the ice-cream, the two of them returned to their seat and ate away. He licked his fingers for excess ice-cream that had melted in the heat after he devoured the cone and rubbed his sticky fingers on the leg of his shorts._

_He was so distracted by his search for missing ice-cream that he didn’t hear Garrett’s heavy footsteps kicking away the sand whilst he approached._

_“Think fast!” Famous last words._

_Time slowed down when he turned his head to find the source of the voice. A blinding array of colours hit him directly in the face. He blinked wildly as he processed the plastic that had struck him and drank in the sound of Garrett and Isabela’s laughter. An inflatable beach ball rolled beside him and he reached up to rub his nose where contact had been made. He huffed once he realised what had transpired. How dare he—!_

_“Ohh I’m sorry Fen,” Garrett said between snickers. He crouched down in front of him with a smug grin on his face. In response, he scowled. Garrett took his face in his hands and pressed a sloppy kiss to the bridge of his nose. “All better?”_

_In the background, Isabela cheered. At Garrett’s cheeky smile, he couldn’t help but let a smile cross his lips._

_“Where did you even get that from?” he questioned, reaching over and picking up the beach ball. He twirled it with his fingertips. When he looked back up, Garrett was avoiding eye-contact and looking guilty._

_“I found it…?” he offered, rubbing the back of his neck. He sighed and shook his head, feeling sorry for the poor kid who was probably out there right now looking for this exact beach ball. “Come on, it’ll be fine. Let’s play,”_

_Reluctantly, he agreed._

He’d been catching up on some needed rest when Master walked back in the room. It roused him from his slumber, rolling over with Penguin wrapped in his arms as always. Stirring, he looked over at Master and his eyes settled on the video camera in his hands. What would he be using that for? Well, to take a video of something one would assume.

“Come here,” Master ordered. He scrambled to sit up. “You won’t be needing that toy of yours,”

Master usually told him to leave Penguin on the bed when he was going to be doing certain things with him, particularly ones of an intimate nature. He never liked doing it but he wasn’t about to deny Master. After sitting Penguin on the blanket, he crawled off the bed and shuffled to Master’s feet. He smiled down at him, cupping his cheek.

“You want to make me happy, don’t you Fenris?” he said. He slowly sat on the floor. It was a peculiar sight. It was hardly ever that Master put himself on equal ground. Soon he realised he’d been asked a question, Master staring at him expectantly.

“Yes Master,” he replied obediently. Master chuckled at his eager tone, looking down at the camera in his hands and fiddling with the settings. He watched him as he did, wondering what his intentions were. Did he intend to film him? He found his arms wrapping around his body. That would be embarrassing, he was hardly in shape. Master must like him this way though, else he wouldn’t leave him like this, right?

The anticipation was getting to him and setting his nerves alight. Master’s eyebrows furrowed as he kept pressing buttons. He wondered if he was having difficulty and was tempted to ask if he needed any help but he bit his tongue. The last thing he wanted to do was speak out of line. Suddenly, Master appeared triumphant and aimed the camera lens at him.

“If you don’t want me to leave you again, you’ll do what I ask, won’t you?” Master asked. His heart hammered as he thought about what it was like being left in Hadriana’s care. He’d do whatever it took to keep Master with him, he needed him to stay alive. Hadriana would’ve let him die. He nodded rapidly and Master tapped him lightly on the cheek. “Be a good boy then and get to work,”

A question tingled on his tongue, to ask what he meant, but when Master’s clammy hand groped his ass it became clear what was wanted of him. His cheeks blossomed with red, shame crawling over his skin. The camera was still pointed at him. He gestured for him to clamber into his lap, so he did. The camera panned from bottom to top. He shuffled his legs as close together as he could manage, feeling oddly exposed.

It was better when Master did these things himself. When Master touched him, guided him, fucked him, it was so easy to pretend he was somewhere else. Now the camera provided an extra set of eyes to watch him and it made his stomach churn. He was grateful that his hair partially shielded him.

He heard Master slide something across the floor. Lubricant. Did he expect him to do everything? He wasn’t sure he could do it, bear the humiliation of the act. Master swatted his ass and he reluctantly picked up the lube and lathered his fingers in it. His hands were shaking. He couldn’t hold the bottle. Would Master punish him if he dropped it?

Discontent was growing on Master’s face. He was finding it hard to do anything, his body frozen except for the insistent trembling. His eyes closed as he dropped his fingers between his legs and steadily began working them inside. If he could just take a couple deep breaths. He could try and pull himself away from this, right now, right here.

In.

Out.

_Garrett’s arm around his waist. Squeezing his side, rubbing small circles with his fingers. They sat curled up on the sofa with their legs entangled. Garrett was smiling at him, wide and openly. It was easy to feel content in his arms, at peace. It was lazy days like these that meant the most to him. You didn’t need chocolates or flowers, just each other’s company._

_As winter steadily approached, the cold was beginning to seep into the house and the heating had to be turned up. Nestled in warm clothing, it was nice to have the warmth of his boyfriend’s embrace. It would do a better job than any thick, insulated clothing he could put on. He took a deep breath and found himself unusually sleepy curled up like this. It was mid-afternoon and there was no reason for him to want to nap except for the fact he was so comfy._

_“It’s your birthday soon,” Garrett suddenly mentioned. Garrett’s birthday had passed not long ago. There had been a big party, one suitable for his 18 th. Despite the gathering of friends and family, he still managed to spend most of his time with him. “Got any plans yet?”_

_He opened his mouth to speak._

“That’s enough,” Master scolded, slapping him clean across the face. His jaw ached in protest to the hit. Master yanked his hand out from inside. His eyes flew open and he stared back at Master. How many had he managed to press inside before this moment? Looking down at his hand, three of them looked slicked. Hopefully it was enough.

Inwardly, he groaned. He wanted to go back to his daydream but Master was glaring, pressuring him. Numbness was crawling up his arms from his fingers as he reached to tug Master out. The camera was still focused on him, it followed his every movement and only furthered his anxiety. What would become of the footage? Was it for Master’s personal collection or did he intend to share it?

He made short work of pouring the lubricant over Master’s cock but as he lifted himself up, Master stopped him.

“Turn around,” he demanded. He swallowed roughly and did as he was told. At least neither Master nor the camera could see his face like this. His teeth dug into his bottom lip as he felt Master’s hand return to his ass and inspect how good of a job he’d done. Unshed tears collected on his eyelashes as Master’s thumb spread him impossibly wide for the camera.

Next thing he knew, he was being forced to shakily lower himself down. A blockage in his throat stopped him from breathing properly.

_“I don’t know yet,” he said. Garrett hummed, pulling him closer. He listened to him list off different possibilities of what he could do for his 18 th but he shook his head at each one. The truth was he didn’t want some big celebration where he’d have to invite people he didn’t really care for much. Garrett, Dad, and maybe a handful of their friends like Isabela and Varric would be enough for him. “I think I just want to spend it with you and Dad,”_

_This gave Garrett pause. He stopped and looked at him. For a moment, he wondered if he’d said something wrong or made him nervous. It was the simple truth and he liked to be honest with him._

_Then both of Garrett’s arms were wrapped tight around him, caging him in as the man cooed. He blinked quickly, looked up at him only to have his face littered in kisses. It tickled, he found himself laughing softly. Shortly after, he was pulled into his lap and their lips met._

_“You are just the cutest, you know that?” Garrett teased, pulling away from his mouth after a moment. He grinned as the way it made him blush. “I love you so much. Let’s get married,”_

_He stared._

_“Are you joking?” he asked, idly sliding his fingers across Garrett’s face and caressing the hairs of his beard. He nuzzled into the touch but shook his head. “You are an absolutely ridiculous man Garrett Hawke if you think you are proposing to me like that,”_

_“Not at all, I didn’t want to spring it on you out of nowhere by the time I have a ring. I’ll still make it a surprise, of course, but I didn’t want you to be completely in the dark in case you don’t want to marry or somethin’,” he answered between chuckles. Despite the carefree tone, the serious intent of his words made his heart flutter. He’d really been thinking about this and wanted to make sure he was comfortable with it. There was not a better boyfriend he could ask for._

Master laced his fingers in his hair and tugged his head back, making his back arch. He brought him down harder and faster, slamming up into him almost painfully. Whimpers were escaping him left and right, gasping on the air he could find.

_“After I turn 18, we can talk about it. How does that sound?” he suggested. Garrett leaned back over to meet his lips, kissing him softly and squeezing him tighter against his body. If it hadn’t been for that conversation he’d overheard him and Dad having a year or so ago, he probably would’ve gone into shock at the idea that Garrett might want to marry him._

_“Sounds good,” Garrett said, settling on a smile._

His ass was slapped and Master’s hand forced him to settle pressed against his hips as he filled him. Master pulled out sharply causing him to cry out. He spread him again, feeling the wetness creeping down his thigh. Presumably to make a show for the camera again.

“There’s a good boy,” Master praised, coaxing him to turn back around and face him. The camera had been put down beside him on the floor. His fingers were stroking his cheek affectionately. He was surprised at how much the praise calmed him. Master tilted his chin and moved in to kiss him.

He found himself glancing over at Penguin sat on the bed. By now, he’d lost count of how many times he’d apologised to the toy for the things it had seen. He kept on repeating himself. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It wasn’t fair. Master’s dry lips were moving against his. Grunting, he pulled away and followed his gaze to Penguin and he frowned. By his expression, it appeared as though he’d upset Master but he did not say anything.

In his hands, Master dropped four pills. A double dose. He quickly swallowed them down. He must’ve done something right to get those at least.

“Sleep it off, pet,” Master told him, standing up and taking the camera with him as he left. There was something about his tone that unnerved him but he couldn’t quite work out what it was. He decided to shrug it off and crawled back over to the bed where he could be reunited with Penguin.

 

If he knew what was going to happen next, he would’ve never let go. He hadn’t been able to get much sleep, but he’d managed to clean himself up a little. Master walked over to him, lock clicking behind him. There was a playful glint in his eyes, one he had never seen before. It set him on edge. He hadn’t given him any instructions so he sat calmly and waited for something to happen.

“Give me it,” was all he said. He cocked his head to the side as he contemplated the words. Then Master outstretched one of his bony fingers and pointed at Penguin, sat in his lap. He looked down at the toy and then up at Master. “Now,”

His fingers dug into Penguin’s soft material. Why would he want Penguin? Why now? He’d kept him for so long. Master was tapping his foot on the floor, growing more and more impatient by the second. He knew he didn’t have much of a choice.

Reluctantly, eyes following the toy every inch of the way, he handed Penguin over to Master. A protest almost flew out when Master grabbed Penguin roughly. His hands curled into fists on his lap as he watched nervously. Penguin had been a gift, it was the first time he’d had something of his own in a long time. He thought he’d done well, he’d cared for him as best he could. He was practically a friend to him. The only one he had in this place.

Master reached inside his plastic bag and poured something over Penguin. A liquid. Then there was fumbling in his pocket. Sweat gathered on his palms. The roof of his mouth felt dry.

A lighter.

Before he could move, Master’s fingers were in his hair. Penguin fell to the floor, engulfed by flames. Heat filled the air and Master laughed over his screams. He scrambled, trying to get to Penguin and put out the fire but it was no use. Movement was tugging the hairs out from his scalp and hurt, Master had no intention of letting go.

Tears bubbled and rolled down his flushed cheeks, sobs tumbling out one by one. He tried to push Master’s hand away from him but he couldn’t. He choked on a sob, crying out for his friend.

How could this happen? What had he done wrong? Why was he being punished?

So many questions and no answers in sight.

He kicked and struggled, wanting to comfort his dying companion. By the point in which Master let go, there was nothing left but ashes. He tumbled to the floor from the bed frame, shaken and broken. He crawled with scraped knees to the burnt toy, the beady eyes he had loved still sat in the pile whilst the smoke filled his nostrils.

Desperately, he wanted to cradle the remains. Master watched him as he wailed like a child, unable to accept this sick twist of fate. His throat was sore and his eyes red and puffy. His shoulders shook as he reached out for the ashes but soon had to recoiled as it burnt his fingertips.

As if to mock him, Master dropped his pills into the ashes. If he wanted them, he’d have to fish them out.

When Master left, he laughed until he could no longer hear him. His lip trembled as he tried to wipe away the tears but they wouldn’t stop coming. He didn’t understand. He’d been so good for Master. Sniffling, he just wished to know what he had done to deserve this. Why give him a gift just to destroy it and take it away? It felt like a part of his heart and soul was missing now his only friend lay in waste.

He couldn’t make it back to the bed. His fingers hesitantly reached in for the pills once the ashes had cooled, brushing them off and swallowing them down. Master had left the plastic bag behind, no doubt filled with something to eat and drink. He couldn’t make it.

His arms wrapped around himself as he curled up on the floor. He missed Penguin’s softness and warmth. It just wasn’t the same without the toy and he wondered how he had ever survived without it before. He hated Master!

Hate. Hate. Hate.

Mourning his loss, he cried himself to sleep.

 

Frustration was beginning to bubble within Master. He had become unresponsive to his demands and was ignoring the food and drink left out for him. Everything just seemed so pointless now that Penguin was gone. A part of him had been burnt up alongside the stuffed toy. His throat was dry and his stomach growled but he ignored it. He knew this stubbornness would get him nowhere. However right now, he didn’t even care if he starved and died.

His sleep was dreamless, he couldn’t cling to the memories of a happier time even if he tried. Dad, Garrett, Isabela, all of them just seemed so far away. In his distress, they had forgotten and abandoned him. They didn’t want to deal with the crying, sobbing mess he had become. Who would? Master was certainly growing sick of him.

If he didn’t want this, he shouldn’t have taken Penguin away, he thought bitterly. This of course was all Master’s fault. Penguin had made everything just a little easier, even if the toy could not talk back. It was relaxing to tell his worries, have something there to hold when he felt sad and cry into. Now he had nothing but a tatty blanket. Life had become significantly more cold and lonely.

Despite it all, he still took the pills. He craved the numbness, it was the best thing Master could offer him right now in this time of need. He worried that Master would soon neglect him of those in order to make him eat but that didn’t seem to be the case and he couldn’t think why. It seemed like he just didn’t care about him anymore.

Did Master want him to die? Had he gotten bored of him? Perhaps Penguin’s misfortune had all been part of this ruse. He scowled and pulled the blanket closer to him. It could never replace Penguin but it would have to do.

He didn’t want Master anyway. The word tasted sour on his tongue. He couldn’t claim to love him and then do something like this.  

Suddenly he found himself crying again, consumed by his thoughts. He sniffled and wiped his tears with the back of his hand. More than anything, he just wanted to go home. Wherever that was. Somewhere safe and warm, alongside Garrett and Dad. This was the most he’d remembered about his life in a long time. The idea of losing it again was more than terrifying. He could hardly believe how much he’d already forgotten.

Dad…

Please, save him.

He’ll do anything.

 

Master had to drag him up the stairs by his hair to the bathroom. He didn’t want to go, he wanted to stay down there and die. Why was Master still taking care of him? His eyes remained fixed on the floor. A pitiful attempt was being made to keep him alive. Surely it would be more convenient for him to just let him rot, then he wouldn’t have to do any of this.

“Get in,” Master ordered. He stared blankly back at him and watched the irritation grow on his face when he didn’t move. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. There wasn’t anything that Master could do that would make things worse.

He remained unsurprised when Master forced him into the water. His head was pushed down under as he was unwillingly shoved into the bathtub. The lukewarm water was stealing his breath, eyes squeezed shut as he choked and spluttered. For all of his claims that he wanted to die, faced with a very real situation he began to struggle. All the liquid in the tub splashed around, Master grunted as his clothes became damp. He jerked his head back out of the water and he gasped.

Coughs came out as he tried to adjust back to the air. It took a few more of these sessions before Master spoke again, repeatedly dunking him beneath the surface of the water only to yank his head back up before he blacked out.

“Ready to behave now?” Master questioned. He feared if he spoke, it’d come out hoarse. Instead, he just nodded and Master accepted it as an answer.

His eyes fell upon the bottom of the bathtub as Master scrubbed him with soap. He was out of energy to fight back. Of all situations, bath time was easily the best of them all. Once he regained some of his energy, he’d struggle again. That’s what he told himself as he let Master rub his skin until it was red and raw. It was as if he was trying to remove a layer of filth that wasn’t there.

It didn’t take much longer before he was told to turn around. With slight hesitance, he did so. Master scrubbed his back with the soap and he closed his eyes whilst he finished up. Next was his hair. Master’s deft fingers were running through dark locks of hair so tenderly. There was no denying that the way he massaged his scalp was sort of nice. He always was so gentle when it came to his hair. It made his skin crawl.

He reopened his eyes whilst Master rinsed out the suds from the fruity-smelling shampoo. Out of the corner of his eye, something glimmered. A shiny object sat on the edge of the tub. He stared at it, wondering what it was. After a moment, he worked it out.

A shaving razor.

How could Master be so careless? Had he always left them there and he just hadn’t noticed? No, that didn’t seem right. He must’ve seen it before. Why had he paid it no mind? He licked his dry lips. There were so many possibilities.

It wouldn’t take much, he thought, just to grab that razor and slit Master’s throat. What would he do then? Escape somehow. His heart was leaping out of his chest. What if Master caught him reaching for it? What would he do? He’d never done something so drastic, not that he could remember. He couldn’t imagine what sort of punishment he would get for even considering such a thing.

What was he saying?

The fact that he was even considering killing another human being was surreal. This wasn’t like him. At least, he didn’t think so. Who even was he anymore? Normal people didn’t contemplate murdering another. How much worse could prison be than down in the room? There were so many questions, so many possible consequences.

Master was occupied rinsing his hair. He could feel his eyes drilling into the back of his skull, there was no way he could see him looking at the razor. It looked sharp enough. If it didn’t kill him, it’d hurt him enough for him to get away. A slice and a dash outside. What would he do once he got there? Fists shaking under the water, he knew he had to make a decision quickly. This could be his only chance to do something like this. There was a chance he’d never get this kind of opportunity again and he’d be stuck in this place with Master forever. He’d die here.

Glancing briefly over his shoulder to see Master still at work, he reached for the razor and snatched it up. He held it in his fingers under the water. He had it. It was here.

Master didn’t seem to notice. He calmly reached for the conditioner and started applying it to his hair. It was a case of not being caught with it now, the worst of it was over surely. Master seeing him take it was the most dangerous part of this whole ordeal.

He couldn’t believe it. This was happening. He was going to escape! Garrett, Isabela, Dad. He was going to see them all again!

Everything happened so fast. One moment Master was running his fingers through his hair, combing in the conditioner. The next he was turning around as fast he could, the razor between his fingers. He aimed for Master’s throat but missed. Master seemed to notice the blade and jerked back.

However, it was enough.

He’d sliced Master’s face. A nasty wound from the side of his nose and along his cheek. The blood was dripping.

“Fuck! You little shit!” Master cursed, recoiling from the bathtub and reaching for his stinging injury. He dropped the razor, listening to it clatter on the bathroom tile floor. For a moment, he hesitated. Shock. Eyes wide.

It soon became apparent that he needed to go. Now! It had to be now! Holding on the side of the tub, he pushed himself out. His body and hair were wet. The water was leaking onto the floor. It didn’t matter. He had to go.

As fast as his aching feet would carry him, he ran past Master and out of the bathroom door. It was hard to run, he didn’t know how long it had been since he’d done this much exercise. All the muscles in his legs were protesting. The burn scars on the bottom of his feet cried out in agony. No matter how much he stumbled, fell, he pushed himself back up and made his way through the hallways.

Which way was the exit? The front door? It had to be here somewhere. It felt like the world was spinning around him. Endless rooms and corridors. He clutched at his chest, winded from the running.

Faster.

He had to find it.

As if it was a bright light, he saw a door with the light shining through a small window in the middle. This had to be it! His escape, his freedom within his grasp. He had to hurry, he could hear Master’s heavy footsteps gaining on him.

He stumbled again, he fell again and pulled himself back up. His fingers dug in like claws to the door. The handle! He was holding the handle! This was it, here was here, he’d gotten this far! Everything was going to be—

Locked.

Blinking, he pushed the handle down again. It wouldn’t budge. He tried again. Again. Again. Again.

No use.

A loud sob tumbled out of his lips and he banged as hard as he could on the door. Of course, Master would keep it locked. How could he be so stupid? No, this couldn’t be where it ended. He wiped his eyes with his arm and looked around in hopes of finding some kind of key. He rummaged through the drawers next to the door, there were so many places it could be. There was no way he had time to check them all. Where was it? It had to be here somewhere.

Master’s heavy footsteps. He was here for him.

The colour drained from his face. It had to be here somewhere. The sweat on his hands was making everything hard to grasp.

Closer.

Car keys, old shopping lists, spare change.

Inching closer.

Master’s fingers were in his hair and he was yanked to the floor with a cry. He attempted to scream, someone must hear him up here! Master’s hand covered his mouth. Tears ran down his cheeks as he squirmed and bit Master’s hand.

Then he saw it. Master descended on him. He crushed his legs with his knees and brought the syringe to his neck. He shook his head, gasping and writhing.

No, no, no! Anything but that!

Before he could do anything else, let out another shout, the needle had been pressed into his neck.

It wasn’t much longer before everything went black.


	5. Amputate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris faces Master's punishment and learns some things about his identity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooo things r heating up  
> thank y'all for all ur lovely comments so far, makes my day!!
> 
> and a huge thanks to my beta Peach_Cherry for pointing out my dumb mistakes n crying with me <3

_“I’m so glad we can do this together now,” Garrett mused, looking down into his glass and swirling around the liquid before drinking it in its entirety. He breathed a sigh of relief, grinning and turning to look at him. He smiled back at his boyfriend, drumming his fingers on the wood of the table. Due to the darkness of the bar, he could only just make out his large figure. He glanced at the glass of wine before him, its reddish hue dulled by the lack of light. It was nice to have a legal drink at eighteen, through the stress of his upcoming exams he needed some time to relax._

_There was no one better to do it with than Garrett. He loved him, they’d been dating for four years now. Everything was going so well. There had been minor bumps in their relationship but nothing tragic._

_“Me too,” he said. Garrett nodded. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket so he pulled it out. It was a text from Dad. Trust him to always worry. He was an adult now, Dad was going to have to come to terms with this at some point. However, he couldn’t find it in him to be angry. After all, he knew he was just looking out for him._

_The message read: “Text me when you’re on your way home :-)”. He grimaced at the outdated emoticon. When would he learn to use emojis like every other normal person? He rolled his eyes and put his phone back in his pocket._

_“Who was it?” Garrett asked._

_“Just Dad,” he replied. “You know how he is,”_

_This caused Garrett to chuckle. He slung his arm around his waist and pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek. Usually Garrett was cautious about showing affection in public spaces. Not everyone exactly approved of their relationship. Not only was this booth in one of the darker, quieter areas, the bar itself was known for its openness. For that he was grateful, most of the time he was itching to shower Garrett with affection but he never wanted to make him uncomfortable._

_Varric and Isabela had recommended this place. The Hanged Man, they called it. They had flaunted fake IDs ever since they were fifteen and got into all kinds of mischief. He had calmly turned down the offer to join in, knowing that Dad would kill him if he ever found out he’d been doing something like that. They’d been caught once, even he could admit it was a slightly hilarious._

_“Hey is that Keran?” Garrett said, nudging his side. He took a long sip from his glass of wine._

_“High school Keran?” he clarified and Garrett nodded. “The one you got kicked out of the football team?”_

_Garrett tutted. He followed his gaze to see the tall blond talking to a group of other guys in the far distance. The two of them hadn’t seen him for a solid year or so since they left high school. Even in the darkness, there was no mistaking it. It was definitely him._

_“I didn’t get him_ kicked out, _we were friends,” Garrett rolled his eyes. He just hummed in response. “I’m going to talk to him, you wanna come?”_

_“No, I’ll stay. I have a whole bottle of wine to get through,” he replied after a moment’s pondering. Then he gestured to the wine bottle sat on the table. Garrett laughed and told him he’d be back in a bit but not before kissing him tenderly on the cheek, making him smile. He watched him as he shimmied out from the corner of the booth and walked over to Keran._

Sharp. Stabbing. Everything hurt. There’s a heavy weight on him. Who is it? The room is twisting and turning. Blurry.

“He’s waking up, give him another injection,” A voice. Male. Master?

A nick of pain in his neck. Black.

 

_Garrett melded into the crowd to converse with his friend. He paid no mind, feeling quite content to just sit and drink. His fingers fumbled for his phone in his pocket and figured he could waste a bit of time. Replying to Isabela’s text from three hours ago, browse Facebook a little, it wasn’t so bad. He put it back in his pocket shortly after, taking another sip from his wine glass and watching the people shuffle past._

_“Excuse me,” a man’s voice. He tilted his head to find that it was in fact him being spoken to. An older gentleman stood at the end of the booth, eyebrows knotted and appearing to fumble with a phone. He didn’t appear to really know what to do with it. He stared at him with grey, pleading eyes that matched the colour of his hair pulled back into a loose ponytail and greying beard. “I am so sorry to bother you, young man, but do you know where this is?”_

_He turned his phone screen to face him presenting him with the name of a hotel just outside of Kirkwall._

It didn’t sound like his own voice when he screamed, shrieking as it felt like his very nerves were on fire. He’d never felt this much pain before. An ache throbbing through his entire body. It hurt. It hurt.

“Shut up you little worm,” he recognised that feminine voice. Mistress? Why were they both here? What did they want? What was going on? Her hand covered his mouth, light pressure on his body holding him down with the other hand. “Why won’t he stay out?”

He sobbed into her palm.

“We’ll give him a stronger dose,”

 

_“So, if you keep going down the main road until you reach the roundabout, take your second exit and it is just on the left,” he explained. The older man gave a sigh of relief, smiling at him and letting his shoulders visibly relax._

_“Thank you so much, you are ever so helpful. Some people in this place can be so rude,” the older man said, putting his phone into his pocket. He was dressed very formally for a bar, shirt and tie. Perhaps some kind of business-man? He nodded at him. “I’m not from the area you see, came to visit my grandson. Got so frustrated looking for the place figured I’d wind down for a drink,” He laughed and it only felt polite to chuckle a bit too. “Someone had to know where it was in here,”_

_The older man sure was talking a lot, he thought. Older people are like that, sometimes don’t have many people to talk to. It was sad really, he couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him._

In.

Out.

Breathing. He was slipping in and out of consciousness. Blurry, darkness, nothing. What was happening to him? A faint sawing noise.

It hurt. What was that?

He could see Master, from the corner of his eye. An array of tools sprawled out on the floor. Tiles. He wasn’t in the room. Where was he? A chill was travelling up his spine. Numbness spreading through his body. He didn’t feel whole.

Something was missing.

 

_“Do you mind?” the older man asked and gestured to the seat. He pondered it for a moment. If he agreed, it was likely that he was going to get stuck talking to him. He glanced over and realised he could no longer see Garrett in the crowd. Wait, no, that was definitely his head poking out. That man was so tall. Garrett couldn’t be much longer, right? He nodded with slight reluctance and figured that he’d probably feel a little bad for the harmless old man otherwise. Dad always taught him to be respectful. “Thank you, these old bones ache far too much these days,”_

_He smiled politely when he chuckled. As the man scooted in behind the table to sit at the booth, he knocked a coaster from the surface. It clattered to the floor and caught both men’s attention. The older man reached to pick it up but he saved him the trouble, raising his hand and leaning down to get it. He fumbled for a moment, it was hard to see in the darkness of the bar but he found it eventually and placed it back on the table._

_“You are ever so kind. My name is Danarius, by the way,” the older man told him, finally putting a name to the face. He outstretched his hand for him to shake and he did._

_Danarius mostly talked at him rather than to him. Rambling about his precious grandson and who knew what else. At some point, he’d tuned out. His fingers wrapped around his wine glass and he brought it to his lips to take another sip. He noticed Danarius watching him carefully as he did so. However, he shrugged it off._

The pain was dulling. Agony retreated. He was so tired. So very tired. His eyelids were very heavy, like weights. Exhausted. His breathing, shallow.

Black spots pattering like rain drops in his vision.

Was he passing out? How much time had passed?

So many questions.

 

_Something wasn’t right. Danarius was still talking and he’d finished his glass. His body just wanted to go to sleep, room spinning around him. He hadn’t even finished his bottle of wine, it was the only thing he’d ordered at the bar. There was no way he could be drunk just yet, right? What was he going to do with all this leftover alcohol?_

_Everything sounded muffled, like he was underwater. All of his energy was spent on fighting sleep. He couldn’t give in, wouldn’t. Not yet. Danarius was still talking, it was making his head pound. He tried to focus on his fingers drumming idly on the table top._

_“I hate to ask but would you do me one last favour and help an old man to his car? It’s just round the back,” Danarius said, just managing to make out the words. Panic flickered in his eyes, an uncomfortable stirring in his gut. There was a clammy hand on his knee, fingers sliding towards his inner thighs in an attempt to try and pry them apart. Teasing, but not threatening. His entire body went rigid._

_Focus._

_“N-No, I can’t,” his words came out slurred. He tried to push away the creeping touch crawling its way up his leg but there was no weight behind his push. His breath was stuck in his throat. When he looked up, Danarius was smiling wryly at him._

_“Oh, don’t be shy,” he cooed in his ear, sending shudders down his spine. “You seem awfully drunk. Perhaps some fresh air would do you good? Come, I’ll help you,”_

_An arm around his waist now, pulling him up onto his wobbly feet. He was screaming at himself._

_Fight it! Punch him! Shove him off you!_

_No matter how he managed to squirm slightly, Danarius’s stone grip would not let him go. He pulled him out from the booth and they began walking through the crowd. His head dropped against his chest, eliciting a chuckle. He couldn’t move, his entire body immobilised._

_Where was Garrett? Come back. No. I don’t want to go._

_Not a single person said anything as they stumbled out of the bar. Glances, rolling eyes at how drunk he looked. How had this happened? His drink? When? He couldn’t remember taking his eyes off it. Besides, this…didn’t happen to people like him, did it? He wasn’t weak or helpless. No one ever taught him he had to be so vigilant. There were stories of women, no one ever told him he could be prey too._

_Help! Help me! He wanted to scream. However, no one thought anything uncouth was happening. He wanted to sob, cry, but he remained as weak as a ragdoll. What was going to happen to him? If the stories he’d heard were anything to judge by then…_

_No. He didn’t want to imagine it._

_Dad. He wanted his dad._

_A car door was opened. He fell onto the backseat on his stomach, his arms grabbed and yanked back. As his wrists were tied together, he fell asleep._

When he woke up, he felt groggy. It was as if he had been asleep for a thousand years. His vision slowly focused on the ceiling above him. Despite everything, he still felt exhausted. Looking down, he could see Master watching him.

Master—Danarius—they were the same person, weren’t they? The man from the bar. His head throbbed. He couldn’t remember. Something was nagging at him, that there was a life he had before this but it was slipping away from him like water dripping from a leak.

His arm tingled, a burning heat spreading down it. He made an attempt to push himself up onto his elbows and then eventually up right. But the weight was uneven, one side of his body much heavier than the other and he fell, collapsing back onto the floor with a grunt. There was something stopping him from doing this simple task, but what was it? Turning his head, he saw it. The source of his problem.

How could he feel a tingling sensation on something that wasn’t there?

A scream tore his throat, shaky tears tumbling down his cheeks. He quickly began to hyperventilate, the strain pulling on his body. Master approached him and shushed him as he sobbed, lips trembling.

His arm. It was gone. Where was it? Had Master taken it away?

With a sigh, Master helped him to sit up. He couldn’t take his eyes off it, the empty space where his limb used to be. The arm had been severed past the elbow, surgically fixed up as if done by a professional. It was if it was still there, pressure, heat, all throbbing from the missing arm.

Memories of running towards the front door, getting there and finding the door was locked. Master had pinned him down, drugged and sedated him like a wild animal. This was how Master had decided to punish him.

He struggled to make sense of it all. Looking down at his feet, he realised they were blossoming bright red and the colour was swirling up his legs. The moment he started looking at them, the pain all came rushing back. Burned again, most likely, doused in boiling water to reignite the agony of movement. He was grateful he hadn’t been awake to feel its burn like he had the first time. Regardless, he figured that it would fall on deaf ears anyway. With the amount of scar tissue on the soles of his feet, it wouldn’t have been too much to handle.

At the touch of Master’s fingers on his cheek, he was jerked back to reality. He stared back at him, noticing that he was no longer crying profusely and his breathing had begun to settle. Master was looking him over, his expression hard to read.

“Your legs would have been a better suited punishment for your crimes, pet,” he spoke up. He had a point there. Why _did_ he take his arm and not his legs? He had tried to run away after all. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t grateful, even though he was grimacing at the prospect that his dominant arm had been taken and that would make any foreseeable future more difficult. “But I just couldn’t bear to get rid of these lovely legs. It was one of the things I always loved most about you,”

His words were punctuated with a squeeze of his thigh causing his breath hitch. He said nothing, watching where his hands crept. Master did seem to enjoy taking things away from him. First Penguin, now this. Where did it end?

“You must be tired. I’ll put you on the bed,” Master said, wrapping arm around him until he rose to his feet. He winced when the soles of his feet touched the floor but it wasn’t long before he was lifted up. Then he clung onto Master for fear of hitting the floor with the one arm he still had.

He allowed Master to carry him to the bed frame. There was a carefulness to the way he placed him down upon him, pulling the tatty blanket over his body as if tucking in a child at bedtime. Master’s hand caressed his cheek.

“Get some sleep, I’ll be back with something to eat later,” Master told him, patting his cheek.

Slowly, he allowed himself to fall asleep.

 

Master started being careful with him, ever since he took away his arm. He was not used to have to do things with his remaining limb and Master didn’t seem to have a problem with helping him. However, there was something strange going on.

For the first time since he’d been in this place, Master seemed hesitant to touch him. He had this strange look on his face every time he gave him something to eat and fed him the usual pills. In the back of his mind he couldn’t help but wonder if yet again, he was doing something wrong. The natural order of things would be he would feed him, give him something to drink, and in return for his health there were things of a more intimate nature. Yet, Master had been refraining from doing such things.

Perhaps now he was an amputee, he found him repulsive. That was his own fault though, wasn’t it? Master was the one who chose to do the procedure. He frowned to himself, looking down at his missing arm. The phantom pains were ever present, heat and pressurised sensations mostly. It was strange not to have to perform these duties, dare say he was beginning to miss it.

He tried to shake the thought from his head. No, this was the most coherent he’d been in a long time. It was at times like these he wished that he had Penguin to comfort him. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, just the thought of his missing friend was bringing him to tears.

This couldn’t be the end, could it? He had been so close before, gotten all the way to the door. Freedom had been within his grasp.

There were no more pleasant dreams and memories, no matter how much he tried to reach for them they seemed inaccessible. Occasionally, there were flashes of a time when he had first arrived in this room. Kicking, scratching, biting. Banging on the door and screaming. Master held him down, drugged him, laughed at him as he tore at his clothes and spread his legs. He wished these nightmares would stop, unable to remember whether they were real or just dreams, but his skin always crawling in disgust.

The more he dwelled on it, the more it seemed like a fruitless attempt. It felt like he had been here his entire life, why would escaping be any different now?

Shortly after his musings, Master walked in with his usual assortment of consumables. He didn’t ask him to kneel on the floor and crawl to his feet. Master simply sat beside him on the bed and fed him.

“They’ve given up on you now, pet,” he said, stroking his leg lightly. He looked up at Master as he chewed, wondering what he meant. Master chuckled mischievously. “Now that they’ve found a body part, they’re sure to think you’re dead. Well, not that it matters much anyway since you were presumed dead anyway,”

He patted him on the leg and got up to leave. Looking down, he couldn’t bear to watch Master walk out. Why would he tell him such a thing? Quickly, he remembered that he could access the news channel on the small television in the room. As he swallowed down his food to the sound of the lock on the door, he scrambled over to grab the remote and switched on the screen.

A children’s show was on so he changed the channel to the news and watched patiently. Master had been right. A segment came on that addressed him, there hadn’t been anything for a long time! Or had it dreamt it? He wasn’t sure. Regardless, he sat and listened to the reporters cover his case.

“…18-year-old boy had gone missing after a night of drinking at a local bar…” one woman reporter said. That was him! It had to be him! “Fenris Vael was suspected to have been last seen leaving the premises with an unknown man,”

His stomach fluttered with butterflies. _Fenris Vael,_ he thought. That…was his name? He had forgotten for so long, his name, his identity. There was something there! _Fenris, my name is Fenris,_ he recited and mouthed the words to adjust to them. Master had not been lying to him. He sniffled as tears started to roll down his face. He had a name! He knew his name! Something so small, perhaps almost insignificant, but he had it now when he thought he had nothing. Sobs tumbled out of his lips.

Fenris.

The news report went on to discuss how they had found his arm. It was strange seeing it on television. He rubbed away his tears and tried to focus on what they were saying in case they said anything else to give away who he was. Just something, anything would do.

“…after 10 years…” the lady continued. That gave him pause. 10 years? Was that how long he had been here? No, that couldn’t be right. It felt like much longer, like he had been here his entire life. It had to be 18 years at least, surely. Perhaps he was just misinterpreting what the woman was saying. That was easily done. “…finally closed the case,”

He looked down into his lap. They thought he was dead. It didn’t make any sense! Surely, they just found new evidence? They…They could tell how long it had been since his arm had been severed! What about who placed it? They must’ve had something to lead them back to Master? If they found Master, they could find him! However, it seemed as if they had…given up. He fidgeted in his place. They didn’t care about him anymore. Nobody did.

Only Master.

His thoughts were beginning to spiral down a dark turn. They thought he was dead. What would it matter if he was? He could die here and no one would be the wiser. What would Master do with him? Would he throw him in a ditch like Mistress suggested? He supposed it made no difference to him.

 

Fenris’s mood had only gotten worse as time went on. This never-ending pitfall of his likely demise was haunting his every waking second. He went through all the possibilities he could think of to escape and yet got nowhere. There was no way he was going to be able to make an escape while Master was in the house. Last time he had tried that, the front door had been locked and he couldn’t find a key in time. Now Master had likely hidden it even better just in case he made a second attempt. However, there was no way he could get out of this room while Master was away.

Besides, even if he did try to escape again, it was likely that Master would be so angry with him that he would go for his legs next. Without his legs, there was no way he could run anywhere.

With Master’s next visit, he gestured for him to get on the floor. He crawled there, pulling himself along with his one arm and burnt feet. In Master’s hand was a bucket filled with water and in the other was a small bar of soap.

“I can’t trust you enough to take you up to the bathroom, I’m afraid,” Master told him. “This will have to do,”

A gasp left Fenris’s mouth as Master dumped half of the bucket of cold water over his head, effectively soaking him. His long hair stuck to his face and he shakily reached up to push it out of his eyes. He looked up at Master and watched him place the bucket down next to him. The bar of soap was thrown at him, hitting his chest and falling into his lap.

“Clean yourself,” Master ordered.

Swallowing roughly, he picked up the soap between his shaky fingers and did as he was told. Master’s tone was more hostile than usual. He stood there and watched as Fenris began scrubbing himself with the soap. Usually, the soap Master cleaned him with had a fruit scent but this one did not. It wasn’t foul smelling, but he wouldn’t call it pleasant either. He knew better than to comment on it and rubbed his skin with it until it was raw.

When he was done, Master leaned down and snatched the soap from him. He poured the remains of the bucket over him to rinse out the soap suds. It looked like his hair wasn’t getting any treatment today. Master tutted at him and dropped the bar of soap into the empty bucket. The water from the spill had spread across the floor and soaked the patch in which he was sat. With his hostility, Fenris couldn’t help but be a little surprised that Master hadn’t willingly soaked his bed.

Before he left, he gave him another few pills to swallow down. He accepted them. Yet again, Master hadn’t forced his hand to anything of a sexual nature.

Things continued this way for a while. Privileges he once had were being taken from him as punishment for his crimes. It wasn’t helping his foul mood and thoughts of finding a way to end his own life were creeping in. A noose from his blanket? He didn’t have any way to hang it. There weren’t many possibilities. He couldn’t imagine things would go well if he tried to starve himself. Master wasn’t above force-feeding him.

He was ashamed of the way he was thinking. Dad would’ve been ashamed and that was enough to sway him from the idea. Suicide was a sin in the eyes of God, he told himself, no matter the conditions of how he was living.

Time kept ticking by. He was running out of options.

 

He was unsure of how long it had been since his arm had been amputated, but he was beginning to adjust to having it gone. Master ungracefully stumbled in and he looked up from the bed as he was ordered to get on the floor again. He wasn’t holding a bucket of water so it couldn’t have been bath day. Fenris had to admit that he did miss sitting in the warm bath water while Master tenderly ran his fingers through his hair with scented shampoo.

Master appeared intoxicated, a heavy flush on his cheeks and a hazy look in his eyes. He had noticed that Master was getting frustrated with his insubordination in the last few…days? Weeks? Something like that. Hesitant with order, having to be forced to eat and drink. He hoped that maybe Master would snap one day and kill him, put him out of his misery. It seemed that Master had taken up the bottle instead of getting too rough with it, there had been some close calls after all.

In his hand was the plastic bag that had food and a few pills in it, but in the other hand was a glass of water. For himself or for Fenris?

Slowly, unsure of his intentions, he clambered onto the floor and waited. He couldn’t remember if Master had come to him drunk before. His usual protests would probably only have an effect when he was sober. He stared at Master with uncertainty.

“I got you something to drink, pet,” he slurred, gradually making way over to him and crouching in front of him. He dropped the plastic bag on the floor and swirled the glass of water in front of him. Fenris’s eyes followed the swish of the liquid. So, it was for him. “Drink up,”

The glass was brought up to his lips and tilted for him to drink out of. Never once had Master used a glass container for his water, it seemed as if he was becoming careless in his current state. Fenris took one gulp before slapping the glass out of Master’s hands.

Everything happened in slow motion.

He watched as the glass slipped from Master’s fingers, hurling towards the ground and shattering into a thousand tiny pieces. The array of fragments littered the floor and only narrowing missing his body and Master’s feet. There was silence between them, just the sound of Fenris’s heavy breathing as the two of them came to terms with what exactly had just conspired. Master stared the broken glass then looked up to meet Fenris’s gaze.

Any moment now, Master would hit him. He’d choke him, beat him, maybe even kill him. He would be furious with him. Fenris anticipated all of these things and yet, nothing. Master continued to look at him, expression soft as if disappointed. It made his skin crawl, like he was a child who had accidentally broken a vase.

To his surprise, Master simply sighed and began collecting the pieces of glass and putting them in the plastic bag. Fenris watched, inhaling quickly and reaching for one of the bigger glass fragments. He pulled it towards his hand, hiding it underneath and ignoring the sharp dig of its edges into his skin. The act went undetected, most likely because of the alcohol in Master’s system.

“I thought better of you,” Master simply said, picking up the plastic bag once it deemed it full of all the glass pieces. He shook his head and stood up.

Fenris didn’t say anything. In fact, he was grateful when Master slapped him. It was hard, forceful against his cheek. He had wanted Master to be angry with him. This was the most disrespectful he had been in perhaps a long time. Why hadn’t he reacted more strongly?

There was no time to ask because Master left. He did not feed him or give him any pills. Once the door was locked, he glanced at the glass piece under his hand and picked it up. At this moment, he didn’t know what he was going to do with it but he figured it could be worth something. It was sharp, it could seriously injure someone. He climbed back up onto his bed and hid the piece under his blanket.

If he could incapacitate Master for long enough to find the key, maybe there was hope after all.

Maybe.


	6. Abscond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris puts the piece of glass he salvaged to good use.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the graphic violence warning tag comes a bit more into play here!
> 
> please read end notes for an important message :)

As he stared down at the glass piece between his fingers, he couldn’t help but wonder if he could really go through with this. For all the bloody noses and bruised knuckles that he wore with pride in school from fights with anyone brave enough to threaten him, he never considered himself someone who liked to cause harm. Of course, there was a world of difference between punching your school bully and cutting your captor to ensure escape from a long kidnapping.

The loss of his arm was proof of how these things had consequences and that it could easily go wrong. This was likely going to be his only shot at this, after this there would be no more chances. He would have to resign to his fate in this room until his death.

Now he had to play the waiting game. The tension was getting to him, the longer he had to wait for Master’s arrival, the more nervous he became about going through with his plan. Escape was so close he could taste it.

Fenris reached under the blanket for the glass piece. It was a fairly long piece, about the same length as the span of his hand. Thick, and quite broad. It must’ve been the main body of the glass that somehow escaped the blow to the floor. He had never believed in fate or destiny, but if this was God’s way of giving him a sign then in this very moment he would’ve believed it. However, he would say his prayers when he was free.

When the door creaked, he hid the glass piece under the blanket again. Master looked much more coherent than he had in his previous visit, most likely sobered up. Distantly, he wondered if that meant he would properly punish him for his transgressions.

Usually, Master would order him to the floor. However, he did not. Fenris blinked wildly as Master approached him. Heart racing, he rested his fingers over the glass piece and waited. Master sat calmly on the bed and sighed. The way he looked at him, it was the same as when he knocked the glass out of his hands. Eyes soft but not angry, lips frowning. Staring at him like a disappointed father. Like a broken doll.

“It has been fun Fenris,” he suddenly said, reaching out and stroking his face, fingers through his hair. Fenris stared back at him, fidgeting slightly out of anticipation. “But unfortunately, my pet, all good things must come to an end. You are too much of a liability,”

“Master…?” he whispered in response. Confusion spread over his face. He had been prepared, ready to carve his path to freedom but things were taking an unusual turn. His mind was screaming at him to just do it, but his body would not cooperate.

It took seconds for Master to pin him down on the bed with his hands wrapped tight around his throat. He was not quick enough to grab the glass piece, it slipped from his grasp. Desperately, he squirmed in an attempt to free himself from Master’s hold and snatch the glass. No use though, Master had a firm grip on him.

He gasped loudly when it happened, his breath being stolen from him. Master’s body was on top of his. Harder. More pressure. His eyes watered, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. There was fire in his chest, his lungs alight. He reached up with his weak arm to push Master off him, shoving his shoulder, grabbing his rough hand. Yet, nothing. He was helpless. Master’s eyes were glaring holes into his skin.

Black was crawling into his sight. His throat threatened to tear, unable to handle the weight Master was putting on it. He was gasping uselessly as his body grew tired. If Master was punishing him, why hadn’t he let go already? He usually let go by now.

Fear crept up on him. Did Master intend to kill him? His legs scrambled on the bed despite their exhaustion. No.

No. No. No.

He couldn’t die yet.

There was regret seeping in for wishing it upon himself. It hurt. Master was stealing more and more from him, more than he could safely handle. He wouldn’t go out like this! How long had he been strangling him and how much longer could he take it?

He didn’t want to die.

“P-Please,” he rasped, voice hoarse. He was surprised that any noise had come out at all. His voice gave Master pause. “St…op…Master, please,”

Master stared into his eyes, watching him as he openly cried like a scared child. His head was pounding, so sure that death was at his heels. He whimpered but it barely came to surface. At this point, he could hardly see Master with how blurry his tears were making his vision.

Everything was fading. The world was soft.

Master was going to kill him.

Death.

If only he could reach for that glass piece, he could fight Master off him. It was too far, beyond him in the sea of pain and blankets. Was this…it? This was where he was going to die. Everything would be over. When he tried to formulate words this time, his mouth couldn’t even move. His body had fallen into a state of numbness.

And Master’s expression softened slightly. Suddenly there was air in his lungs again. Master had let go. He coughed violently, rolling onto his side as Master shifted upwards. It didn’t make any sense. He was so sure that he was going to die, that Master intended to kill him. Why stop now? It was almost like…he couldn’t go through with it. After everything he’d done, every second of torture, he couldn’t kill him.

“I hate you,” Master spat, frustrated with himself and clambering off the bed and out the door.

As soon as he had caught some of the air to breathe, Fenris sobbed and his whole body shook. He didn’t understand. Master couldn’t even grant him the sanctity of death’s embrace, put him out of his misery. He shuffled onto his back, reaching for the glass piece and holding it tightly against his chest. Next time, he swore.

There were many questions about Master. He doubted he would ever find out the answers to them.

 

The next time Master walked in, he had the glass piece in his hand. Master had come with a blade of his own and who knew what was in that bag he was holding. Fenris gripped the glass tighter. Would Master try to go through with killing him this time?

“Come here,” he ordered. Fenris hesitated. What would he do with the glass? He had nowhere to hide it. With Master’s intentions to likely kill, there was no way he was about to leave it behind. Master’s tone got sharper, harsher. “Now,”

Taking a deep breath, he managed to swing his legs around and walk on aching feet over to Master. His soles were sore and putting his weight on them was agony. However, he knew that if everything went to plan then he would need to get used to it anyway. His steps were slow and steady, balancing himself with the glass tucked under his fingers. He made his way over to him eventually, standing in front of Master who loomed over him like a scarecrow.

Master’s eyes looked down and lingered on his fist. His eyebrows furrowed.

“Show me what’s in your hand, Fenris,” he demanded. Fenris could feel his heartbeat in his throat. Master tutted and his arm shot out to grab his wrist. He jerked away from his advance. That’s when it happened.

Fenris felt time itself slow, the silence ringing in his ears. Warm, wetness on his hand. He looked down to find the glass piece deep in Master’s abdomen, his own fingers still wrapped around it.

The sound of Master’s own blade and the bag clattering to the floor was louder than anything he’d ever heard. His eyes bulged as he watched the red spread over his clothes. He could barely believe it was his own hand. Master was staring at him, lost for words with his mouth hanging open.

“Fenris—” he gasped.

With all of his strength, he yanked the glass piece out. The blood splattered up his arm, coating it in a dark shade of red. It poured from the open wound he had created. He panted, watching Master fall to his knees, hands clutching the injury and making a hopeless attempt at stopping the bleeding.

Red, hot fury coursed through Fenris’s veins. Years of pent up anger, sadness, frustration. He could hardly recognise his own body moving when he slashed Master’s throat. The red liquid spit at him, spilling across his face and dripping. It didn’t take long for Master to begin to fall. It wasn’t enough to satiate him. Quickly, Fenris dropped the blood-soaked glass piece and grabbed Master by the collar of his shirt, staining it with his drenched hand.

In seconds, he had him pinned to the floor on his back. Fenris knew he was dead, the life had drained from his face, his eyes. But it didn’t stop him.

His fist came down over and over. The blood was puddling under his feet. He couldn’t stop himself.

“You…” he grunted with his voice croaky, striking another punch to Master’s already broken jaw. He took a deep breath. “…are no longer my Master...!”

Eventually, he began to cool off. Standing up and stumbling back, he looked down at the desecrated corpse. He hadn’t intended to kill him, just hurt him bad enough to give him time to make his escape. The plan was for him to go to prison for his crimes, spend the rest of his life rotting away for everything he had done to him. But, here he was. His anger had taken over and this was the carnage it had left behind.

Laughter bubbled in his throat. He doubled over, hysteria pouring from his lips whilst hot tears tumbled down his face. It didn’t feel real. He had plunged in the glass piece, had taken his last breath.

 _Murderer,_ his own mind taunted, _you are a murderer._

What would become of him now? He sniffled, wiping his tears with his hand and smearing the red only further. Would he be punished for this? If he escaped, would they imprison him for murder? At this point, he couldn’t care less. Freedom was here, blessing his every movement. He was going to see everyone again. Garrett, Isabela.

Dad.

He stumbled over to the bed frame, picking up the blanket and pausing. _For Penguin,_ he thought, _who should’ve been here to see this._

Taking a long, deep breath, he wrapped the blanket around his waist. Getting blood on it was unavoidable when it was covering most of his body. He grew frustrated at how hard it was to tie a knot in the blanket to secure it with just his single hand. In the end, he settled for tucking it in and hoping for the best.

Next, he walked over to the corpse. Danarius. He searched through his pockets until he found his keys. His hands were trembling as he held them. He couldn’t believe this was happening, he was going to get out of here at last. It was a pity it couldn’t have happened sooner. There were a couple keys on the ring and he wondered what they were all for. One of them had to be for the front door, surely.

Taking the keys, he tried each one in the door out of the room. He found one that clicked, and his heart jumped in his chest. The door opened with a light squeak and he had to wet his dry lips. His feet protested as he made his way up the stairs, out of the basement and up into the main body of the house. His footsteps were leaving trails of blood behind him. He looked around, trying to get a grasp on his bearings.

 _Calm down Fenris_ , he told himself, _you have all the time in the world_. This time, no one was coming after him and chasing him down. Everything was going to be okay.

He wandered through the hallways, waiting for some part of it to seem familiar. At the end of one long corridor, he noticed the familiar front door from his attempted escape in the bathroom. As fast as he could, he moved towards it and tried to open it to no avail. He took another deep breath. It was okay, he had all these keys. One of them must fit. Trying to calm his anxious nerves, he tried each key.

His lips curled into a frown. He tried each key twice. Did…none of them fit? Where was the key to the front door then? Panic was beginning to resurge. No, he had time, he kept telling himself. He could look for it. Putting down the keys in his hand, he began rifling through the same drawers as before.

It quickly became apparent that the key he was looking for was nowhere near the front door.

What was he going to do? He picked the ring of keys back up. This meant he was going to have to go searching through the house. He clenched the keys tight and reluctantly went on his journey through each room to try and find the key. Maybe this was stupid of him, maybe he should’ve just banged on the door and screamed in hopes that someone on the other side would hear him and break him out.

The hardest part was keeping himself calm. He flinched at every sound, every noise keeping him on edge. A couple times he swore he could hear Danarius’s footsteps coming towards him. He approached one of the rooms he hadn’t been in yet and found it locked. Looking down at the keys in his hand, he sighed and reluctantly decided he would try and open it. There was clearly something to hide in here if he had kept it locked.

One of the keys worked and the door opened. It was only a small room with a desk and chair. On top of the desk sat a laptop, thinner than he had ever seen before. He supposed that he hadn’t considered how technology might change in the time he had been captured. There was also a large stack of discs. Slowly, he walked towards it.

He sat down on the chair, happy to get off his aching feet. On the screen of the laptop there was…a room. He squinted. A time resided in the corner of the screen. What was this? Then in the corner, he could see it. Danarius’s corpse, soaked in blood and the trail of red footsteps to the bed frame. The television sat across from it.

Danarius had been able to see him this whole time.

Fenris jerked back in the seat, his breathing getting heavier. Of course, he had been keeping tabs on him. He was foolish to think he wouldn’t. His eyes turned to the stack of discs beside the laptop. He rolled the chair forwards and picked one up, leaving the keys on the desk. On its shiny surface, there was writing scrawled in black marker. While his reading wasn’t great without his coloured glasses, he could just about make out the words.

FENRIS YEAR 10 8-2.

Hastily, he put the disc in the side of the laptop and waited for a piece of software to boot up. He didn’t know what else he expected when the window popped up. It was him, sat upon the bed. For the first time, he had a grasp of what he looked like outside of his own vision. He blinked back the tears. In this particular moment, he still had both arms. This meant that there was record of everything. Every intimate moment.

Trembling slightly, he moved the time forwards and skimmed through. When he saw Danarius’s hands on him, spreading his legs and fucking into him, he felt his stomach heave. It was strange, looking upon the scene like this. A shocking scene of debauchery, he could hardly recognise himself.

It didn’t take long before he was vomiting. Bile pooling and spilling out onto the floor between his bloody feet. It scratched up his already sore throat, leaving a foul taste in his mouth. He clenched his stomach with his arm, coughing and faintly tasting the tang of blood.

He yanked the disc out of the laptop, disrupting the display, then turned to the stack. Trying to even out his breathing again, he shuffled through them until he found one labelled: FENRIS YEAR 1 1-1. The very first disc. His curiosity got the better of him, he had to know what it would show. He could hardly remember his first days. Unsure of whether he was going to like what he saw, he put it in the laptop and waited.

The new window popped up. He stared at himself on the screen, hardly recognising the sight. Fully clothed, unconscious on the floor. It was before the bed frame was there, before the television. He was dressed in a grey sweatshirt, one he distinctly remembered Garrett buying him, and a pair of black skinny jeans. Distantly, he wondered what became of those clothes. Knowing Danarius, he probably incinerated them. His hair was short and bone white, his body much healthier-looking with muscle on his limbs.

Danarius was down there with him, putting his hands all over him. He could hardly watch as he peeled the clothes from him and admired his naked body. From just watching, he could almost feel his hot breath against his neck, clammy hands on his thighs, and it made him squirm on the seat.

His nostrils flared in disgust, feeling the tears begin to well up again as he saw Danarius unzip. His unconscious body – how could he?

Unable to take anymore, he slammed the laptop screen shut. His breathing wavered and he curled in on himself, fingers running through and tightening on his hair in a threatening urge to tear it out. The blood left it with sticky red patches, but he didn’t care. In fact, he almost he relished in the idea that Danarius would hate it to see it so dirtied. He always loved his hair so very much.

He remained there for a while. Unable, unwilling to move. He uncurled himself when he thought he had begun to calm down. Just seeing the stack of discs reignited his anger and he threw his hand through the pile, scattering them across the floor with a cry.

It wasn’t over yet. He still had to get out of here.

There were a couple drawers under the desk. Unclenching his fist, he moved to try each of them. The top one was locked, not willing to budge, while the other two opened with ease but they were unfortunately completely empty. Fenris reached for the keys that he had put on the desk but had not been disturbed by his outrage with the discs. There was a small key on the ring, one he had been curious about since it had been too small for any normal door. It looked as if it would fit nicely in the keyhole on the locked drawers.

So, he tried it. The key fit nicely into the keyhole, and twisted easily. He yanked the drawer open and found another key within. There was nothing else in the drawer, just the key. He picked it up and inspected it. It looked about the right size and shape for the front door, all he could do was try it.

Danarius had obviously taken a lot of security measures for this one key. He wondered if it was because he feared that maybe this day would come. Especially after the bathroom debacle, he worried that Fenris may one day get close enough to escape and he didn’t want that. Regardless, it seemed like a lot of effort to go through just for one key. If it didn’t unlock the front door, it had to lead somewhere particularly secretive.

Fenris decided to leave the other keys behind and got off the chair. He winced when his feet hit the ground, while he had been so consumed by the laptop and discs he had completely forgotten about the agony of walking. For now, he would bear it so he could get to the front door and hopefully secure his freedom. He was desperate to get out of this room anywhere, surrounded by the poignant smell of his own vomit and littered with evidence of his years of torture.

Once he got out there, the police would likely come search this place anyway. They would find all the discs and use them as evidence of what he had suffered. For as much as he hated the thought of anyone else seeing Danarius degrade him, especially so intimately, he knew it had to happen.

Anxiety running havoc through him, he made his way back to the front door. He stared up at it before looking back down at the key in his hand. Perhaps, this was it. He was going to leave all this behind him.

He put the key into the lock.

And turned.

It clicked.

When he reached for the handle, it was not stiff. He pushed it down with ease and the door opened before him. The light of day was shining down upon him. It was hot on his skin and within seconds he was out of the door, the stone of the porch cold and hard on his feet.

He had no idea what time it was, what month or day. All he had to go on was the fact that it was 10 years later than when he had been captured.

It didn’t take long for him to realise that he had never considered what he should do by the time he got here. He never thought he would get this far. Looking around, the area seemed faintly familiar. He couldn’t quite place it, but there was something niggling at him in the back of his mind about this place.

A couple chuckles left him. He was here, this was it. He was free, forever. Never again would be have to suffer another minute in that house, in that room. Everyone would be waiting for him to return home…right? He shook his head, crouching down to the floor the stone on the floor. It only made him laugh more, having forgotten what the feel of the outside world was like. The feeling of fresh air in his lungs, nature within arm’s reach.

He took another few steps, down the steps leading onto the path from the porch. He leaned back down to feel the grass, soft under his fingers. Everything was so bright, vivid in comparison to the bleakness of the room. It was all so overwhelming.

Stifling his laughter, he walked over to a nearby lamppost and rested his arm on it to support some of it weight so there wasn’t so much pressure on his hurt feet. Under his hand, he felt paper. He turned around to look at the poster that was taped to the side. Unfortunately, he’d managed to smear a bit of blood from his hand on that too.

The poster looked old, the wear and tear nibbling at its edges as it began to yellow. Even the text was slightly faded. But it was unmistakeable, the photo blown up in the middle of the page was definitely him. That same white hair and green eyes. He wondered if he would’ve been able to recognise himself if he hadn’t seen the discs in the house. It was unlikely. His fingers ran over the text.

‘MISSING PERSON’ he could make out at the top of the page. There was much more writing underneath, presumably details about himself. He assumed so from the words he could read, which were ‘Fenris’, ‘green’ and ‘white’. This was all so surreal.

In hindsight, he should’ve expected the screaming. A poor young lady who had walked by and caught sight of him was shrieking and made him avert his gaze from the poster. He blinked rapidly, watching her fish into her handbag and pull out a phone to call somebody. Then he looked down at himself.

No wonder the poor woman was so startled. With only a ratty old blanket tied around his waist, he was naked from the waist up and coated quite liberally in blood. It was in his hair, over his face and chest, creeping up his arm and legs. Perhaps he should’ve been grateful for the blankets existence. His hand drifted up to his neck and he wondered if it was purpling with bruises from where Danarius had strangled him previously. He was quite the sight.

Did she recognise him? He pointed aggressively at the poster for her, unable to find any words to say.

 

 

The next few days were hazy. He remembered the careful touch of the young policewoman who helped him into the back of an ambulance. The loud noises had startled him, sending him into a panic. He had hyperventilated, cried, shook in the arms of many careful people who tried to settle him. Fortunately, most people who approached him were gentle with him and recognised his situation. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been around so many people, it was disorientating.

He laid in a hospital bed. The rooms were a bright white, blindingly so, making him squint and squirm. However, eventually he adjusted. He spent a lot of time sleeping, the bags under his eyes begging him to rest. They fed him and took care of him. He cried when he ate. Perhaps once upon a time he would’ve been repulsed at the idea of hospital food but right now, it was the best thing he had ever tasted.

They dressed him in hospital clothes. It was nice to feel the fabric against his skin. They’d cleaned off all the blood, for which he was grateful, but they hadn’t asked him for the details of how it got there yet. That would come later, he assumed. They were wary of spooking him, not wanting to demand too much from him straight away in case he freaked out.

He wondered how long he would be staying in this bed. The idea of being stable enough to survive on his own seemed far away.

As he remained there, he listened to the doctors talk. He wanted to know as much about his condition as possible. They had been feeding him some kind of medication with his food. The first thing they tried was pills, but at the memory of everything Danarius had given him, he vehemently rejected it.

“He’s handling the detox well,” one doctor said to another, palming through some papers. “Whoever took him gave him a lot of Oxycontin, I’m surprised it didn’t kill him,”

Recovery was happening slowly but surely. He remembered one of the doctors being surprised at how professionally done the amputation of his arm was. It raised many suspicions among those taking care of him. But he just counted his blessings that he had no infections. It was just one less thing to worry about.

This was the most conscious he’d been in days. He was finally able to collect his thoughts.

No matter how many times they told him the date, what year it was, that he was a whole 28 years old, it never quite sunk in. He was finding it hard to come to terms with the reality before him.

It was too early for visitors though, they told him when he inquired about seeing the people he dearly missed. He wondered what they were all doing now. After 10 years, it was likely that Garrett and his friends had moved on. They were all adults, no longer the bumbling teenagers who wanted to get roaring drunk and make bad decisions that they would probably regret later in life. Their thirties were creeping up on them. It was likely that they had careers and a life of their own, maybe families.

There was no way Garrett had waited around 10 years for him, right? He was wonderful, charming, could sweep anyone he wanted off their feet. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin the new life he had built by walking back into it. No doubt he had spent so long trying to move on from him, feeling guilty for things that weren’t his fault. He deserved better than him, someone with less problems under their belt.

He shook his hand and tried to avoid thinking about it too much right now, he knew it was only going to make him upset. Focus on the positives, he told himself, he was out of that house and no longer under Danarius’s thumb. That’s what Dad would’ve told him. He was ready to start a new life, not that he knew where that would lead or who would be within it.

His ears perked up when he heard a familiar voice just outside the ward door. He pushed himself up with his one hand to sit upright on the bed and tried to place it. Where did he know that voice? It didn’t take long before the door was pushed open and a man rushed in towards him. The sound of the door opening made him jump and instinctively reach for the bed sheets. His fists curled into the fabric as the footsteps approached him and his breath got caught in his throat. However, his entire body relaxed when he drank in the sight of the approaching figure.

Hair slicked back, a reddish-brown hue. Slightly tan skin and those brilliant blue eyes. He was dressed in a white dress shirt, arms open wide and eyes welling up with tears.

“Fenris!” he yelled.

…Dad?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are y'all happy now? lmao  
> we're finally at this turning point! now, i pose a question - how much do you guys want to see of the recovery period? i could easily wrap this fic up in another chapter but if you want to see a lot the slow recovery-happy ending scenes then im quite happy to do so! please let me know in the comments :)
> 
> huge thanks to my beta Peach_Cherry as always for sticking with me through this fic, the art in this fic is done by me!


	7. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris reunites with his dad and deals with what life is going to be like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhhhhhhere we go kids
> 
> thanks 2 my beta Peach_Cherry as usual <3

Hushed complaints from the hospital staff about being careful with him, that he was still sensitive to touch, were completely drowned out when Dad approached him. It didn’t feel real, to see him again in the flesh after spending so long distantly recalling memories that distorted the view of him he could remember.

Dad pulled up a seat beside the hospital bed, its legs dragging across the floor and squeaking. Fenris could tell he was holding back, no doubt because the hospital staff had warned him so thoroughly about his tendencies to be skittish. After all, he was still adjusting to life outside of his capture again and at this moment in time, he still wasn’t supposed to have visitors. It seemed that Dad had pushed his way through though, insisting that he should have a right to see his own son after 10 years.

“Fenris I... You have no idea how long I have waited to see you, ever since they told me they found you...” Dad was stumbling over his words and his hands were trembling. He could tell he was itching to reach out and touch him.

He didn’t care that his muscles were weak. Dad was sat here before him, within his grasp. Already, he could feel water begin to gather in his eyes. It seemed that he was going to have to be the one to initiate the contact. Luckily, he was more than happy to.

There was nothing more comforting than being in the arms of a parent. He thought it might make him unexpectedly panic, but Dad was so far beyond what Danarius was that perhaps it didn’t matter. He smelled different, felt different. When he outstretched his arms pleadingly, he was glad that Dad visibly relaxed and hugged him tightly. He was so very warm, he thought as he nuzzled himself against his chest. It didn’t take long to realise he was crying, sobbing against his shirt and making it damp. His fingers were dug deep into the back of his clothes, unwilling to ever let go.

“Dad…” he whispered, voice wavering amongst the crying. Dad put one hand calmly on the back of his head and drew him in but did not stroke his hair. After a moment of only tears filling up the silence, Dad pressed his face against the top of his head. He could feel him shake in his arms and he wondered if he was crying as well.

“Oh...Fenris, my baby boy,” Dad said affectionately, eyes crinkling with his smile as Fenris looked up at him. His hand cupped his face, pressing a light kiss on his forehead and wiping away the tears from one of his eyes with his thumb. “You have no idea how much I missed you, I prayed every day that one day you would come back to me,”

A resurgence of guilt bubbled up when he saw Dad crying. He was the cause of this. There had only ever been a handful of times he’d seen his father cry. Rare moments of vulnerability surfacing, like when it came around to the anniversary of his family’s death. Even then, he tried to hide away the sadness for Fenris’s sake. He knew he did, that he tried to be strong for him, insisted that everything was okay even when it wasn’t. To see him crying so openly in front of him now, spoke volumes about the very moment they were both enraptured by.

Did all this mean something? It was hard not to wonder if this was some scheme, that God had this happen for a reason. For as much as he wanted to think that it was God who allowed him to escape, there was also the painful thought that it was God who put him there in the first place and allowed the years of torture to happen.

“I missed you…” Fenris croaked, sniffling a little. It didn’t seem long ago that he thought he may never get the chance to speak to Dad again.

“I know sweetheart,” Dad replied. The term of endearment brought him spiralling back to his childhood. The way he clung to his dad, cried like a baby, and was soothed by his parent, it all made him feel like a child again. It was hard to believe he was nearing his thirties, his capture stunting his growth as a person. Most of all, it was hard to accept that he wasn’t still 18. “I missed you too, so very much,”

He wished he could stay in this moment forever. Somewhere he was safe, warm, and secure. He didn’t want to let it go. It appeared that Dad didn’t want to release him either. He couldn’t possibly imagine the grief Dad went through after he disappeared, forever wondering if he was dead or alive. What must it be like to lose a child? Especially after everything with his family. It wasn’t fair, none of this was fair.

Thinking about it, they had declared him most likely dead on the news. Now they had discovered a body part the case had turned to finding the pieces of his dead body rather than him as a whole, suffering under Danarius’s cruel hands. Did they have a funeral for him? Had they lowered an empty coffin into the ground? It was a strange thought. There were only so many years that you could be missing before they declared you dead anyway, about 7 years or something. At least, that’s what he thought he heard someone say. He knew that Dad didn’t give up easily, he could see him persisting when everyone else gave up.

Dad was only one piece of the puzzle. There were other people he wanted to see, though he wasn’t sure how much they wanted to see him. It was something to ask Dad later, if none of them came around or were never mentioned.

The thoughts he was drowning in came to a halt as Dad slowly let go of him and moved his palms to wipe at his wet cheeks. Fenris sank back into the hospital bed, pulling the sheets back up his body. Dad found his hand shortly after, squeezing his fingers and rubbing his thumb against the back of his hand. Eventually, he cupped his hand with both of his own.

“I’m here for you now. I’m going to stay with you,” Dad told him. Fenris nodded.

 

During the night, Fenris awoke startled. His breath came in short bursts, pushing through a blockage in his throat. He clutched his chest, heart pounding and racing too fast for his body to keep up. The whole room around him was spinning round and round. Crawling all over his skin, he could feel Danarius’s wrinkled, clammy hands. Dirtying him, soiling his body with its filth and whispering wetly into his ear.

He wanted it to end desperately. Never again, he thought and his mind began to coat itself with a thick fuzz, never again. Numbness began to twirl in his fingertips, crawling up his arm. For a moment, he swore he could feel his other arm throb in agony, but he had to remind himself that the pain was imaginary for there was no arm.

His hyperventilation awoke Dad, who had been sleeping on the chair next to him. The nurses had tried to usher him out when visiting hours were over but Dad made a fuss and refused to leave. There must have been sympathy somewhere deep in their hearts, for a man who had reunited with his son thought dead after 10 years. Perhaps, there was a bit of pity as well. Fenris couldn’t help but be grateful for Dad’s company when the nurses finally gave up and told him he could stay as long as there was no trouble.

Panic flickered in Dad’s eyes as he sat up abruptly. He reached for Fenris, cradling his hand and uttering things he couldn’t make out. It didn’t take long before a nurse arrived. The name Lirene was distantly familiar but he couldn’t think why. Regardless, the woman was frequently around taking care of him. By now, she was used to his nightly panic attacks.

“Breathe in your nose and out through your mouth, okay?” she told him, like she had a thousand times before. Her hand rubbed his back whilst Dad held tightly onto his hand.

As he began to calm down, he could see the tiredness in Dad’s eyes. Heavy bags had formed under them, he wondered if he was the reason he had lost sleep. It couldn’t be good for him sleeping on that chair either, not when he was growing older. The man must be in his very late forties by now. He wished that he hadn’t put him through so much stress and trauma, not when he had already dealt with so much.

Lirene left him with a plastic cup filled with water. Dad had to let go of his hand so he could hold it and drink. He took careful sips, settling his breathing and wiggling his fingers to get the blood flow back in them. Apparently, Dad didn’t want to go back to sleep until he did and he knew he was safe. It was a fatherly thing, he assumed, on top of all that he had gone through.

“I’m okay,” he told Dad. Whilst Dad didn’t seem entirely convinced, he nodded. Fenris finished the cup of water and set the cup down on the small table beside the bed, next to a vase full of colourful flowers.

He shuffled back down under the covers and attempted to return to the land of dreams because he knew his body needed the rest. Hopefully, his nightmares wouldn’t wake him again. The whole time, he could feel Dad’s eyes on him, watching over him like a guardian angel.

In the end, he fell asleep to Dad rubbing his thumb against the back of his hand.

 

Whilst he waited quietly in his hospital bed as Dad went to go get himself something to drink, he listened to two doctors chat just outside the room. He always had quiet good hearing, sensitive to the sounds around him. It had only been heightened since he escaped, going from not many sounds to more than he could handle at first. The other kids at school had teased him for his big ears, he could remember that.

“The chief hasn’t been in for a while now, what do you think he’s doing?” the first doctor asked and shuffled some papers.

“Dunno. Hope they get rid of him, never liked that guy. He always gave me the creeps,” the second doctor replied, snorting derisively. “He always had it out for the new residents. I heard he even tried to paw at some of the young male patients,”

Fenris heard the first doctor make a noise of disgust. Whoever this guy was, they didn’t seem to like him much. Though, by the sounds of things, he didn’t seem like a very nice person. In some ways, he reminded him of Danarius. He tried his best to shake away the thought in fear of freaking out again. Instead, he would focus on waiting for Dad to come back.

Dad had kept to his word and stayed with him day in and out. Didn’t he have a job? He was going to lose it at this rate, taking so much time off. Maybe they understood. What…did Dad do again? He frowned as he tried to recall it. For sure, he knew that he did work on the side as a priest at the church. His dedication to his faith was always admirable. There was more than that though, a regular job in the day. Why couldn’t he remember it? There were little splodges in his memory like that.

“Maybe he retired, he was getting pretty old, wasn’t he?”

“Surely, we’d know about it if he was?”

“He was a sneaky bastard, didn’t have any friends. Wouldn’t surprise me if he just up and left!”

Didn’t those doctors have anything better to do than gossip? People died in hospitals every day and here they were chattering about things that didn’t even matter. He fidgeted under the sheets. Dad was taking a little while. He thought he was only going to the water cooler to get a cup of water. There was a chance he was mistaken though, he couldn’t expect the man to live on cups of hospital water.

He thought about the little apple slices he had brought him one day. The natural sugar and sweetness of fruit had been rather pleasant. He always favoured apples, no wonder that was why Dad gave them to him. Over time he was beginning to eat a little better, it was nothing compared to how he probably once was but it was enough for some improvement. Hopefully they would let him go home soon.

“Well I say good riddance what’s-his-face. What even was his name?”

“Ha, not knowing your boss's name? That’s just like you. It was Danarius or something, wasn’t it? I remember because he always like his full name and I never understood why he didn’t just use ‘Dan’!”

His ears perked up. Danarius? The man they were talking about, he…he…They didn’t know yet! Did this mean they hadn’t found him yet? No, if they hadn’t found the room in the first place, he supposed they wouldn’t.

Fenris scrambled for the buzzer to alert a nurse. He pressed it over and over, no one was arriving quick enough. His heart threatened to jump out of his chest, body shaking, the panic setting back in.

He was coming. Holding him, hands bearing down on his throat and shoving his body against the bed. In his head, between his legs, devouring each piece of him.

No.

Danarius was dead, he told himself quickly, you killed him.

_Murderer._

In through the doors came Lirene as fast as her legs would carry her. She approached him quickly, prying the buzzer out of his hands. Her eyes showed concern, looking him over in an attempt to see what was wrong. Fenris grabbed her, his fingers digging into her shirt and knuckles turning white.

“Dead! He’s dead! I…I killed him!” he exclaimed, trying to catch his wavering breath between sentences. He gripped her shirt harder. Lirene’s hands encompassed his and gently pried it off her shirt but held it as it quivered.

“Shh Fenris, it’s okay. What’s wrong, what are you saying?” she asked calmly.

The demons in his mind were taunting him. Tell her what you said and she’ll fear you, he thought, she’ll lock you away in jail and it will be no better than being under Danarius’s thumb. His eyes began to fill with tears. No matter how much he thought to fight it, the words came out before he could filter them to protect himself.

“Danarius! He…He’s dead, I…there’s a room…! Blood, oh, so much blood,” he scrambled to explain. Lirene reached out to stroke his hair, fingers threading through the dark locks. He slapped her hand away, breath unsteady. No one could touch his hair, it reminded him of _him_. The gentle touch, cascading through his hair and admiring it. Lirene’s mouth opened as if she was going to speak, protest against his violence, but she slowly closed it again and shook her head.

“You’re not making any sense Fenris. Please calm down and talk to me,” she said. He sniffled, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

How could he possibly get her to understand? All of the words were a jumble in his head. It was hard to make sense of them. He had to find a way to get her to understand. They had been waiting for him to give them answers about his capture. He supposed he should be thankful they didn’t try to pry it out of him straight away while he was still adjusting.

“The…man who took me. Danarius. He has…a room in his basement, he kept me there,” Fenris told her, trying to calm his breathing with the techniques he had been taught during his stay in the hospital. Lirene cocked an eyebrow, obviously recognising the name. “To escape I…I had to hurt him. He is still there, I think,”

He hoped that his words had come out the way he thought they did, finally proud of himself for making a bit more sense judging by Lirene’s expression.

“These are strong accusations Fenris and you are still on a lot of painkillers,” she replied, carefully pushing him back to lay down on the bed. He frowned. Didn’t she believe him? No, she had to! She had to! It was the truth, why would he lie? He didn’t have anything to gain from lying. If she didn’t believe him what were the chances that other people would? “How about you lie down here while I get you some water? I’ll speak to someone about this, I promise,”

For as much as he wanted to protest, tell her to do something about it now and confirm his accusations, he ended up relaxing into the sheet and nodding. He gave in, exhausted from the panic. In the end, he just uttered a weak “Okay…”

As Lirene left the room to get him some water, she passed Dad who stood in the doorway. He looked at Lirene slightly shocked, clutching a bottle of water. He’d obviously gone to a shop to get it, perhaps unsatisfied with the amount he had to leave Fenris’s side to obtain a cup and go to the water cooler. Quietly, he made his way back over to the bed and sat down on his usual chair next to him.

“Are you okay? I heard what you said to the nurse,” he questioned, unscrewing the cap of the water bottle and taking a sip.

“She does not believe me,” Fenris mentioned, teary-eyed. He tilted his head to the side to look directly at Dad. Slowly, he reached to hold Dad’s hand. He took it with a smile and held it securely. “You believe me, don’t you?”

If Dad didn’t believe him, no one would. Dad’s expression softened and he put his water bottle on the bedside table. He raised Fenris’s hand to his lips and softly kissed his knuckles.

“Of course, I do,” he said.

 

By the time people had been brought to question him on his experiences, Fenris was growing restless. No longer did he want to be stuck in the hospital. As of late, they had allowed him to begin walking around so long as he was assisted. Dad was by his side most of the time, taking him to and from the bathroom and occasionally to get a cup of water from the water cooler or a special snack from a vending machine. He was still a little wobbly on his feet but his leg muscles were in dire need of use. They had bandaged up his feet and applied various creams to make it easier for him to walk on them after the burns. He could still feel its ache, but it was much better than before.

The most humiliating part of the experience was definitely some of the inconveniences one arm posed. After spending so long being humiliated and degraded by Danarius, he didn’t want to have to suffer a similar embarrassment now he was free. Dad didn’t mind though, ever eager to assist if he needed a little help using the bathroom or something of the sort. He did not see Fenris as lesser of a man for it but Fenris couldn’t help but feel weak.

An older gentleman sat and recorded him as he spoke. It was a little unnerving, to be put on the spot like this. He knew that he was going to have to bring the events of everything that happened to light at some point. It must have been weeks since he first arrived in hospital. Dad had told him that they announced his safe return in the news but no more details had been released since. His confessions about what happened would be an article of its own.

He couldn’t tell whether he wanted them to hear it from him, or let the recordings in Danarius’s house do the talking. They were bound to see them no matter what he did, so he was better off not humiliating himself any further by admitting it.

“Are you sure the man who held you captive was Danarius?” he was asked. Why did no one else believe him? Dad was squeezing his hand in reassurance. It was the only thing keeping him calm and his sanity intact right now.

“That is…how he introduced himself at the bar before he…he…put something i-in my drink, I think,” Fenris told them, fingers tightening around Dad’s hand.

The men in the room exchanged glances, talking with their eyes and body language. Fenris took a deep breath and instead focused on Dad’s words. He told him how good he was doing; how brave he was. Fenris wished those words made it easier, but they didn’t. There was no simple way to talk about such horrific events. He should be glad he was away from all that, ready to start a new life, that these events were to be spoken of and no longer lived.

“There are…r-recordings, in the house, there is a room full of them. Everything…I…Everything that happened is there, I saw them,” he explained. There was no stopping the fidgeting. “He kept me there in…in a room downstairs, the…basement? I-I…”

“We’ll search the house. Thank you for doing this Fenris, we’ll uncover all this. You can relax for now, we won’t ask you anymore questions today. Once you’re released from hospital, we’ll arrange for a professional to talk to you. It might be good for you to talk about everything that happened,” one of the men replied. Fenris nodded, thanking them for doing what they could and watching them walk out the room.

Dad turned to look at him, smiling. With his other hand, he leaned over to rub his shoulder soothingly. Fenris took another long, deep breath. He was glad the questioning was over and that Dad was here for him the whole time.

 

There had been topics within their discussions that Dad had yet to breach. A lot of their time together they spent talking about current events. Apparently, a lot happens in 10 years. In fact, when Dad had pulled out a fancy smartphone and said he was still a little behind the times, he had been surprised. He watched as Dad pawed through a couple popular apps, things he had never seen before.

Then he mentioned about keeping up with the kids at school, that even some of the younger children in his classes owned pieces of tech better than his. It kept him in touch with things. Like a light switch, it clicked. Dad was a teacher for the children at the primary school down the road from their house. In fact, he and Garrett had been in his class for a year once.

Garrett…

Despite the news being released to the public for a while now, no one from his past apart from Dad had come to see him. There was never a turning point in which Lirene or any of the other nurses told him he could have visitors, but yet there hadn’t been a peep from anyone. Fenris didn’t consider himself particularly popular but the friends he did have, he thought were close. There was a churning in his gut as he thought about how time had likely changed them all. Even so, he would’ve thought at least one would show up.

He listened to Dad keep talking and wondered if he should ask. There was a chance that Dad didn’t know where they were in life, he couldn’t expect them to follow through with his son’s friends after 10 years, especially if he was presumed dead. It wouldn’t hurt to ask though.

“Dad,” he spoke up. Dad stopped immediately in his tracks and met his gaze. Fenris swallowed a lump in his throat. “What happened to…my friends? From school. Isabela or Varric or…” He paused. “…Garrett,”

When he said his name, he noticed Dad stiffen. He wondered if Dad had blamed Garrett for his kidnapping. For as much as he hoped, he supposed he could understand why to a point. Perhaps it would never have happened if he hadn’t been left by himself at the bar. There was no time for maybes, would haves, should haves. He was safe and that was all that mattered. It wasn’t Garrett’s fault, there is no way he could’ve known. For all intents and purposes, things like this just… _didn’t_ happen to people like him. At least, that was what society at told him.

“About a year after you were taken, I stopped talking to Garrett. We did not leave on good terms, I was angry at him. Whenever we spoke, we argued about you. Even if we didn’t speak, he came to…help me on your behalf with the public appeal and pushing the police on your case. It was a lot for him to deal with I think,” Dad explained. Fenris frowned and looked down, suddenly feeling bad for all the pain his disappearance had caused. “Last I saw him was…ah, his mother died about a year and a half ago. I went to the funeral, Leandra always was such a darling woman. Garrett didn’t take it too well but you couldn’t have expected him to,”

Dad sighed, noticing Fenris’s upset.

“I’m sorry Fenris, I don’t know where he is now. I know you loved him but it’s been 10 years. Losing contact with Garrett also means I don’t know about the rest of them. Oh, except for Anders,” he continued, clicking his tongue when he mentioned Anders’s name. “I know you weren’t fond of him, neither was I. However, I have seen him working here at the hospital. Give it awhile longer though. If nothing happens, I’ll ask Anders for you,”

Fenris nodded slowly. Dad reached out and tilted his chin up with his fingers. At first, he flinched a little at the touch but he soothed himself by leaning into Dad’s hand. He supposed that he couldn’t expect much more.

So, Anders became a doctor after all then? He faintly remembered him going to med school when they left high school. While he and Anders never got along very well, simply interacting because Garrett was a mutual friend, seeing anyone from his past would bring him joy right now. That included Anders. Though, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to be slapped with reality that everyone had aged and moved on.

At least, that answered a few of his questions. It wasn’t exactly what he had wanted to hear, but he had his doubts that would be the case regardless.

 

He was nervous about being discharged from the hospital. It was nice to be dressed in his own clothes again. Dad had brought them to him. He found it odd to be wearing the same clothes he had when he was a teenager though, to his surprise they all still fit. In fact, he’d lost weight since he last wore these clothes and therefore they hung slightly baggy on him.

Dad remained by his side, close at hand. Fenris had a feeling that despite being out of the room for so long, it was still going to be difficult. For all this time, he had still been sheltered and taken care of every second of the day. Now he was going to have to start going out into the real world. He had no doubts that Dad would be by his side the whole time and taking care of him, but the thought was still rather scary.

The second he was wheeled out of the front doors and steadily moved onto his feet, he jumped at the sound of a car whizzing past. Instinctively, he leapt to Dad’s side and held onto his arm, shielding his body slightly from the world around him. He felt pathetic, the way his heart raced at the loud noise.

Noises kept startling him and Dad ushered him quickly into the car. Struggling slightly with his one arm, Dad helped him put on his seatbelt. He offered a pair of headphones and some quiet music to listen to in order to dull out the noises around him but he refused. The last thing he wanted was to be unaware of his surroundings, even if it frightened him. Dad settled for turning on the radio in the car and keeping the conversation light. It did the trick, for the most part.

Fenris wasn’t sure what to expect when they pulled in the driveway.

Moving around to open the door for him, Dad helped him out of the car and together they walked towards the front door. It was so familiar, it appeared that not much had changed about the house. This whole situation almost felt surreal after spending so long in the room.

The sound of the lock and Dad fumbling with his keys made his breath hitch. His instant reaction was to cower as the lock clicked in place. Dad turned to look at him as the front door swung open. He reached out to touch him but Fenris slapped his hands away.

“Fenris, it’s okay. It’s just me opening the door, we’re home,” Dad said softly. Fenris’s shoulders trembled, peeking out from between his fingers to stare into the hallway of his home. It was at that moment that Dad must’ve realised that things weren’t going to be as simple as he hoped.

“I’m sorry…” Fenris whispered, pulling his hand away from his face. Dad assured him it was okay and guided him inside.

He helped him remove his shoes, leaving them in their rightful place by the door. Fenris took a few careful steps forward, looking around the room. Very few things were different to what he could remember. He almost wanted to say it felt like déjà vu, but he knew for certain that he had been here before because he had grown up here. However, that felt like another life, another place. The him that spent his childhood and teenage years here was different to the him that stood in that hallway now, battered and broken.

“How about we go to your bedroom? People told me I should’ve done something with it but I couldn’t stand to think of letting you go. Everything is as you left it,” Dad told him, gesturing towards the stairs. Fenris nodded, gripping tightly onto the stair railing and he walked up the steps alongside Dad. He could remember which was his room was, which door it was. The sensory input of seeing everything was drawing back memories from deep in his subconscious.

When they stood in front of the door, Dad allowed him to do the honours of opening it. He bit his bottom lip nervously, reaching out for the handle and opening the door. As it opened, he inhaled shakily.

For a moment, he swore he could see his childhood self. Soft carpet under his toes, a neatly tidied bed in the middle of the room. He retraced the footsteps, his fingers felt the fluffy blankets on top of the bed sheets and he marvelled in its comfort. With green eyes brimming with tears, he turned back to look at his dad.

“Welcome home, Fenris,” Dad smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that concludes part 1 of the MCK series! Huzzah! Due to popular request, I shall be continuing this fic in a separate fic based solely around the recovery(including his reunion with Garrett). That's why the ending isn't exactly...super solid.  
> I'm super psyched to write more, I have no intentions of letting go just yet. 
> 
> I'm gonna cry tho, my baby has come so far aaaaaa  
> hope you enjoyed!!


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